


Small Mercies

by E_Jay



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Squad Up, i ship it like fedex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-04-28 09:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14446230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Jay/pseuds/E_Jay
Summary: Hawk Moth wins.With their Miraculouses gone, Marinette and Adrien wait for the fallout for four years. But the world keeps turning, Paris is still standing, and Hawk Moth is suspiciously silent.Until one day, when a familiar package arrives in the mail.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is canon up until Zombizou, and then goes off the rails. Hope you enjoy!

The alarm was incessant.

_“Akuma alert. Ladybug and Chat Noir are expected to handle this emergency swiftly. All visitors kindly vacate the premises very calmly. Thank you.”_

The droning of the words was muffled by the stone walls of the cathedral, but it could still be heard from where Ladybug and Chat Noir were crouched down between the pews.

“Akuma alert. Ladybug and Chat Noir are expected to save the day, as per usual,” Chat Noir parroted in a mechanical voice. Ladybug lightly whacked him on the arm, but that wasn’t enough to quiet him. “I’m so sick of that alarm. I hear it in my sleep, in my dreams, when I’m aw-”

“Chat, shut up.”

Chat Noir raised an eyebrow, and a little bit of guilt crept up Ladybug’s spine.

She shouldn’t have been so short with him – he didn’t know what she was facing. Plus, he’d already been through a lot that evening. She noticed that his voice was still cracking on the occasional word. Despite everything, he could still joke around.

“Sorry, Chat.” She sighed and looked upwards to the vaulted ceiling. She decided to give him half of the truth. “I’m just very, very not okay with us being here right now.”

As a general rule, Ladybug tried to steer akuma victims away from national monuments. It was a request of the Mayor, originally. After having the Eiffel Tower occasionally destroyed, sliced, demolished –  and on one memorable occasion, turned into a giant toothpick –  Monsieur Bourgeois had called upon Paris’ resident superheroes to try and avoid any more landmarks.

Despite Ladybug always returning everything to normal, it was bad for business. If it was bad for business, then it was bad for the economy. And if it was bad for the economy, then it was bad for re-election.

Yet, here they were in the city’s most iconic cathedral, the Notre Dame de Paris.

Ladybug had been to the Notre Dame plenty of times as her civilian self, but never after hours like this. The rose windows, which seemed colorful and awe-inspiring in the day, seemed foreboding and ominous as they towered over her and Chat. It seemed as if the Biblical figures in the glass were glaring at the two of them. It didn’t help that there was so little light coming in from the windows that Ladybug could barely see her partner beside her.

At the opposite end of the cathedral, there was a pounding on the door.

_“Akuma alert. Ladybug and Chat Noir are expected to handle this emergency swiftly. All visitors kindly vacate the premises very calmly. Thank you.”_

“I can’t do this,” Ladybug said. She dropped out of her crouch, and sat directly on the floor. She could feel a migraine waiting behind her eyes. “Chat, I can’t do this.”

Chat’s eyes were almost comical as they bugged out. He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Doth my ears mistake me? Ladybug, here’s a newsflash: we save the day _all the time._ If we can’t do it, no one can.”

Ladybug was silent. Outside, somewhere on the Ile de la Cité, the akuma alert was still going off. She had a sudden fantasy of smashing the speakers into tiny little pieces.

Instead, she tried to calm herself down by counting the number of wooden pews that were neatly stretched out in tight rows. She couldn’t see much from their seated position, but it was enough to know that there was plenty of cover between them and the doors at the western entrance.

The only positive part of the situation was that it was summer break, so at least she could sleep in after this mess was sorted out.

“Ladybug, look at me.” Chat squeezed her shoulder until she looked him in the eyes. “Here’s the sitch. You’re going to save the day, I’m going to be your attractive sidekick, and then we’ll both go on our merry way.”

_“Akuma alert. Ladybug and Chat Noir are expected to handle this emergency swiftly. All visitors kindly vacate the premises very calmly. Thank you.”_

Ladybug broke his gaze, and looked towards the chandeliers that were suspended above the archways. She couldn’t bare to look at him when she felt like quitting. “You’re not my sidekick, _chaton._ You’re my partner.”

Chat Noir’s grin could have lit up the entire cathedral. “That’s the spirit, Bugaboo. This akuma – sorry, _these_ akuma – aren’t different than anything we’ve faced before. Just because there are two of them doesn’t mean we can’t handle it.”

Ladybug didn’t tell him, but these akuma _were_ different.

They were her parents.

* * *

It was Marinette’s fault.

It started three months ago. Marinette knew that having a daughter who was racking up late notices at school, who was always exhausted, and who seemed to disappear all too often was getting on their nerves. In the past month, she’d been grounded three times. As kind and caring as her parents were, Marinette suspected that she was pushing them to the limit of what they could allow.

With their twentieth wedding anniversary approaching in a few months, Marinette knew that this could be her chance to make it up to them. And what better way to smooth things over than with food?

She had made a reservation at her parents’ favorite restaurant months in advance, and when she told her parents that she had booked them a table at _Epicure_ , they were thrilled. Although she had intended for it to just be the two of them, they insisted that she call the restaurant back and ask for a third chair at the table. “It’ll be family date! How adorable,” her mother had said, kissing Marinette on the cheek.

Marinette had watched her mother cross out days on the calendar that hung in the kitchen. A red circle surrounded July 25th – the day of the reservation. The three of them had already looked at the menu online, and had already decided what they wanted to try.

And of course, none of it had gone to plan.

The reservation was for that night – and only hour before, Marinette’s phone beeped with an akuma alert. At least Paris was getting high-tech with their safety alerts. But while the rest of the city hunkered down, she ran up to her room.

“I’m just going to take a quick nap!” she shouted down to her parents. Their worried gazes followed her up the stairs, but she quickly shut the trap door and transformed.

It was the beginning of the end.

A tourist from Canada had been so frustrated with the lineups at the Louvre that she had been akumatized into Queue, an akuma with the power to freeze people where they stood. It was more of an annoyance than anything truly dangerous.

Shouting drew Ladybug's attention to the Cour Napoléon – the main courtyard – outside of the Louvre. Tourists were screaming as they ducked behind bushes, lampposts, and anything that offered cover.

“I thought people from Canada were supposed to be nice!” Chat shouted, as he parried with Queue. She was dressed in a tight black jumpsuit with high black boots that reached up to her thighs. Her hair was a frizzy redheaded mess, as if she’d stuck a fork in an electrical outlet.

“The people of Paris need to stop jumping the line!” Queue screamed. She had a heavy Quebecoise accent. “They need to be _polite_.” She was holding a bubbly pink gun. She aimed it straight at Chat Noir and fired-

-And the pink bubble hit Ladybug in the chest, as she dived in front of Chat.

"Ladybug!" Chat yelled, rolling out of way. Ladybug was stuck in the same position, with one foot on the ground and her arms outstretched.

"Look at what you did!" Queue shouted. "At least she has the time to reflect on how impolite it was to get in my way."

Ladybug wanted to scream. So much for her plan of getting rid of the akuma quickly.

Chat Noir was suddenly whispering in her ear. "You stole my role," he grumbled. "I'm the one who sacrifices myself for you, my lady. You're making me look bad. Looks like I've got to make the plan myself, this time." He suddenly stood up straight and grinned.

“I mean, you have a point,” Chat Noir said loudly to Queue. He quickly back-flipped to avoid a stream of the pink bubbles. “You know where the lines are really bad? The Eiffel Tour. People jump the line _all the time._ Someone should really put them in their place, you know. The hooligans.”

That got her attention. Hawk Moth’s glowing mask appeared over her face, but she shook it off. “I can get their Miraculouses later! I have to deal with these miscreants.”

Without another word, she sprinted away, and headed towards the Tower.

“Look, I’ll go distract her for a while,” Chat said as he ran over to Ladybug. He had to stand on his tip-toes to make eye contact with her. “It looks like it’s not a permanent freeze. Some of the other victims are starting to blink a bit. It just takes a while to wear off. She’s not even a good villain.”

Chat Noir reached out to kiss her outstretched hand, but he cringed and pulled back. “I don’t want to risk getting stuck with you, my lady. But any other day, I’d want to spend my time attached to you.” He winked, and Ladybug wished she could have rolled her eyes.

In the end, it took two hours for the effect to wear off. Ladybug had watched as vibrant pinks in the sky had been replaced with soft hues of violet. The city was far too quiet, with the normally crowded streets all but silent.

In her field of vision, she could see dozens of other frozen people in the same predicament. There was one particularly embarrassing moment when a pigeon had landed on her head for a good ten minutes.

Suddenly the streetlights switched on, and Ladybug realized that it was officially nighttime.

It felt like she was stuck in molasses. But every minute, she could move something else. First, she could blink. Next, she could wiggle her fingers. After another half hour, she could take slow steps.

The only upside was that the akuma’s powers stopped the countdown of her Miraculous. She could only imagine being stuck in place and de-transforming into Marinette.

Finally, once she could move relatively unencumbered, she pulled out her communicator.

Chat Noir answered immediately. His hair, normally ruffled on a good day, was plastered to his forehead with sweat. He was breathing heavily. “Ladybug! You look less statue-y.”

“Lead her back here, Chat,” she said, the words thick on her tongue. She massaged her jaw with her other hand. “I’m over this.”

“ _You’re_ over this? I’m the one that’s been playing cat-and-mouse with her! And I’m the mouse!” Chat Noir ducked and narrowly avoided one of the bubbles. “We’ll be right over.” He snapped his baton shut.

Ladybug took the time to stretch and practice a few yo-yo throws, but Chat was right. Only a few moments later, he came bounding over a nearby rooftop, with a very pissed-off akuma victim behind him.

“We could really use some of your luck right now!” he yelled as he flipped through the air. He landed awkwardly on one foot. Her kitty was getting tired.

“You don’t need to tell me twice. Lucky Charm!” She threw her yo-yo in the air, and something dropped from the sky and into her arms-

“A box of Lucky Charms? The cereal? That’s too awesome,” Chat said, flexing his foot. “I could use a snack.”

“Sorry, _chaton_ , I’ll get you some treats later,” Ladybug said, already looking around for things to help her. She narrowed in on one of the fountains that Queue was standing next to, as well as her jumpsuit.

“Ladybug! Just because you’ve escaped once doesn’t mean you’ll be able to again!” Queue looked worse for wear after her time with Chat. Her hair was even frizzier, and her sleeves were in tatters from Chat’s claws.

“Chat Noir! I need a distraction!” she said, using her yo-yo as a shied against the bubbles that were being shot at her. They deflected harmlessly off.

“At your service!” he said, and threw his baton like a javelin at Queue.

She whipped around, and it gave Ladybug enough time to get close enough. She opened the box of cereal, tore through the wax paper, and dumped the cereal down Queue’s jumpsuit. Queue jumped a foot in the air as the cereal started to fall through her outfit.

“Gross!” she yelled, prancing from foot to foot as she tried to get the cereal out. She was off balance enough for Ladybug to shove her into the fountain.

Ladybug jumped in after her. The water was only a foot deep, so Ladybug had no problem while reaching down and grabbing the watch on Queue’s wrist. It was the only accessory she could see, so she took a wild guess and pulled.

In retrospect, it was stupid that she thought the watch would come right off. It was a digital watch, so the little metal piece had been pushed through the plastic strap, and it _would not come off._

Queue tried to punch Marinette, who dodged at the last second. With one arm, she attempted to hold Queue down, and with the other, she tried to wiggle the watch off her wrist. Queue kneed Ladybug in the thigh and reached out to Ladybug’s throat –

Two leather-clad arms grasped Queue’s hands, and green eyes filled Ladybug’s vision. “Need a hand?” Chat asked. “I can’t believe I like you enough to jump in a fountain for you,” he added with a wink.

“Thanks,” she grunted, as she made quick work of getting the watch off Queue’s wrist. She stood up, waded to the fountain’s edge, and jumped out.

She threw the watch down, and felt a calm sense of relief as she smashed it with her foot. A little black butterfly fluttered out. She quickly de-evilized it, and as the white butterfly flew into the night, she made sure to bid it goodbye.

She wondered what happened to the purified akumas. Did they become a real butterfly? Or did they go back to Hawk Moth, only to get re-evilized? That would mean Hawk Moth essentially had an endless supply of akumas. Great. One of these days, she wanted to follow an akuma to wherever it went.

Ladybug walked over to the discarded cereal box. She threw it back to the sky, and shouted “Miraculous Ladybug!”

The swarm of ladybugs surrounded Chat and Queue, who was left as a young woman in jeans and a sweater. All around them, people who had been frozen were suddenly swarmed with ladybugs, and were free to move.

“Where am I?” The woman asked. She suddenly shot upwards. “Why am I in a fountain? I’m going to have to go back to the hotel and change!”

Chat gave an exhausted grin. “Before you go, I should fill you in.”

The akuma alert was finally silent, and the regular noises of Paris started to filter into Ladybug’s conscious. Distant cars were honking, and some nearby teens started to bicker over whether or not it was appropriate to brag on Facebook that they had seen Ladybug frozen with a pigeon on her head. Despite some groggy-looking tourists who had just been unstuck, it was as if nothing had ever happened.

Paris, after all, was a resilient city.

Ladybug’s earrings beeped. Normally the warning only gave her slight anxiety as she looked for an escape route. But this time, she felt truly ill. She glanced around the plaza, but everything seemed in order. She was drenched from the fountain, but that would dry off soon. What was she forgetting…?

The reservation.

Her parents’ anniversary.

_No._

She clamped a hand over her mouth. “I am _so_ late!” Her parents had been so excited for this meal. She remembered downloading the menu, and laughing about the idea of blue lobster with her Dad, and her Mom telling her about the delicious desserts. “So, so, so late -”

It was at that precise moment that Ladybug’s famous luck wore out.

A familiar voice came from behind her. “Sorry, Ladybug, you’re not going anywhere.”

Ladybug had never felt true shock before. She’d seen it with some akuma victims, or sometimes with some of the unlucky citizens that got in the way of an attack. They had essentially shut down, shivering, with a lost gaze. Now she understood the feeling.

She felt as if she had fallen into an alternate universe.

Standing across the courtyard were her parents.

Akumatized.

“Two akuma? At the same time?” Chat Noir was incredulous. He was still in the fountain. “But we just finished one! That’s not possible!”

Ladybug couldn’t speak.

The weirdest part was that they didn’t look that too different from usual. They were both too pale, and their eyes were a blazing purple.  Otherwise, her father was dressed in a double-breasted suit with a fire-red tie. The pleats of his pants looked perfectly ironed, and even in the dark his shoes gleamed. Her mother was in a sparkling sleeveless gown that pooled at her feet, and a similar shade of red was on her mother’s lips. Pointy black stilettos completed the ensemble. Ladybug was sure that these were were the outfits they were going to wear to their dinner.

It took her a moment to see the truth.

Around both of their necks were deep gashes, as if someone had tried to strangle them. The wounds were still openly bleeding. Small puckered holes were on their arms, and Ladybug realized they were gunshot wounds.

“We need to get them to the hospital!” Ladybug screamed. Her parents seemed akumatized, but also hurt-

“Are you kidding me?” Chat Noir yelled. His face was contorted in disgust, water dripping down from his hair. “This is so nasty. Officially the ugliest akuma ever. I’m going to have nightmares from these spider/human _things_.”

“What are you talking about?” Ladybug shot back. There weren’t any spiders around.

Chat Noir was gaping at her. He flicked his hand out. “Are we not seeing the same thing? The half-human, half-spider hybrid?” He looked more closely at the pair. “ _Dieu._ I know them! The bakers!”

That snapped Ladybug out of her reverie. She whipped around to stare at Chat. “You? Know _them_?”

Chat winced. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have said anything.”

Ladybug filed this away for later knowledge. She and Tikki would have to dissect this new fact tomorrow. If Chat Noir knew her parents as a civilian, there was a pretty good chance he knew her, too. As Chat stepped out of the fountain and made his way towards her, she wondered what he thought of her civilian self.

“Focus,” she said to herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see civilians sprinting away. The only one who wasn’t running was the tourist from Quebec, who was still disoriented and was looking at the scene in surprise.

She had to distract her parents. “Who are you?” she called out to them.

“We are the Fear Mongers,” her father said. As hard as she tried, Ladybug couldn’t see past her parents’ familiar faces. “We’ll make you experience your worst fear so that you know how we feel.”

Why would her parents make people feel fear when akumatized? Her parents were the nicest people she knew. Unless…

The answer hit her like a bus.

She had told her parents she was going upstairs for a nap. When they came to fetch her, she was gone. They would have been met by an empty room and an empty balcony. They probably thought she was kidnapped, or missing, or dead –

And Hawk Moth had capitalized on their fear.

Her father grabbed something from his pocket and pulled it out. Holding back a sob, Ladybug realized it was a macaron. Instead of the normal pinks or blues or yellows, it was some sort of dark color.

He whipped it towards the nearest person. It hit the Quebecoise tourist square in the chest.

Ladybug wasn’t prepared for the scream. It seemed to come straight from her soul as it was ripped out of her. Her knees hit the ground as she collapsed. “Not Daniel!” She shrieked. “Not my brother! Take me instead, please-”

“How awful,” her mother drawled. She took out a macaron from her clutch purse. “I wonder what she’s seeing in her head.”

“This isn’t right,” Chat Noir said from beside her. From the way he was apprehensively looking at her parents, Ladybug figured he was still looking at a grotesque spider vision. “Why are you making people feel this? And no offense, but why do you have eight legs? It’s not my jam.”

Ladybug was suddenly glad that she wasn’t seeing whatever nightmare vision Chat was facing.

A thought struck her. Whatever a person feared, that’s what the akuma materialized as. She had a sudden image of Chat shrieking in the shower when seeing a spider.

And her fear was her parents being injured. That explained their wounds.

In a way, Ladybug felt relief. Her parents weren't truly injured.

Her father pulled back his arm as he prepared to throw. “Give me your Miraculous!” When he unleashed his barrage of macarons, Chat Noir easily batted them away with his baton.

Ladybug’s earrings beeped frantically. With a start, she realized she had missed the earlier warnings. Looking at Chat Noir’s ring, he only had one paw pad left. Even though he hadn’t used Cataclysm, running around the city had taken its toll. He’d probably changed back more than once already.

“Chat! We’ve got to go!”

He looked at his ring and grimaced. “Let’s split up. Call me when you’re good.” She nodded.

With a herculean throw, Ladybug whipped her yo-yo to a streetlight on the other side of the road. She closed her eyes as she flew over her parents, narrowly missing one of the macarons. Once she was perched on the streetlight, she jumped to a nearby roof, and started to sprint.

Her transformation only lasted a few more seconds. As the red glow filled her vision, she tripped over the gravel, and scraped her hands and knees as she fell.

“Marinette,” Tikki said, eyes drooping as she suddenly appeared.

“I’m fine,” she said, although she felt as if she’d gotten into a fight with a bear, and the bear had won. “There are cookies in my purse.”

Tikki didn’t need any more explanation, and zoomed into her purse. Marinette forced herself to kneel and to take in her surroundings. She was on a gravel roof, and was alone except for a cooling unit and a few fold-out chairs. Fortunately, the building was tall, and she doubted anyone in a taller building would be able to see her clearly in the dark.

She made a mental note not to refer to her parents as the Fear Mongers. They were still the same people. She wouldn’t let Hawk Moth de-humanize them like this.

There was something cool on her face. Belatedly, she realized it was starting to rain. She imagined the drops were her tears, but she couldn’t cry now. Not yet.

“I’m good, Marinette,” Tikki said quietly. Her little friend’s antennae drooped. Marinette reached out to prop them up with her finger.

“Are you sure, Tikki? We can take another minute.”

Tikki shook her head. “Let’s get your parents back.”

Marinette tried her best to smile. “Thanks, Tikki. You’re sure you’re ready?”

Her kwami nodded. For a moment, Marinette paused. It was at moments like these that she realized how bizarre her life had become. Here she was, talking to the floating god of luck, as she tried to save her parents from an evil super-villain who had a weird obsession with butterflies.

Marinette really, really, wanted to go to bed.

“Tikki, Spots On!”

The rush of the transformation gave her the boost she needed. By no means did she feel refreshed, but at least she didn’t feel like death warmed up. Her hands were still shaking as she reached for her yo-yo, and continued her jumps over the rooftops.

She pulled out her communicator, but Chat didn’t answer. He must’ve still been a civilian. Ladybug paused on one her roofs, waiting-

A scream echoed across the Seine, on her right.

It was _raw._ It was the worst sound Ladybug had ever heard. It was as if the poor victim was getting their insides ripped out.

The scream came from the Ile de la Cité, in the middle of the river. In the distance, she could see the Notre Dame silhouetted against the sky on the opposite end of the island. If she could get to the top of the cathedral, she could pinpoint where the scream had come from. Her parents wouldn’t be far from that.

She flipped down from the roof and started to run towards the Pont Neuf. As she stood near the bridge, she pulled out her communicator. This time, her partner answered. “Chat, head towards the Notre Dame!”

He didn’t say anything; he just nodded blankly. His eyes were bloodshot.

She sprinted across the bridge and onto the island as fast as she could. Once she approached buildings, she used her yo-yo to speed along towards the other end of the island.

As she approached the western entrance of the cathedral, she could see the famous gargoyles looking down at her. The rain muted the light coming from the church, which cast long shadows across its walls.

She hit the ground running as she jumped into the plaza.

_“Akuma alert. Ladybug and Chat Noir are expected to handle this emergency swiftly. All visitors kindly vacate the premises very calmly. Thank you.”_

Ladybug nearly jumped out of her own suit as the speaker crackled to life behind her. It looked like the area had already been evacuated, but she could no longer hear any screams.

Suddenly, something hit her from behind. She almost broke her attacker’s nose, before realizing it was Chat Noir dragging her towards the Notre Dame. “We need to get inside!” he said, his voice cracking. “They’re coming.”

“You know what Mr. Bourgeois said about monuments!” Ladybug protested, but Chat continued to drag her towards a side door. There was no lock – had he already used Cataclysm on it?

“It doesn’t matter what Mr. Bourgeois wants,” Chat said darkly as he pushed her though the door. “We need to think of a plan.”

“We need to find whoever screamed! I’m sure m-” she caught herself, “I’m sure the Fear Mongers will be near them.” She shivered as she thought about that terrible scream. It had sounded like someone was getting needles stuck underneath their finger nails.

Chat shoved the wooden door shut behind him. The hallway was so dark that Ladybug could barely see. Chat had the advantage of night vision, and had propped a chair underneath the door handle.

“It was nothing I hadn’t dealt with before,” he muttered, and grabbed her wrist as he pulled her down the hall.

It took Ladybug a moment to understand.

* * *

“Are you okay, Ladybug?” Chair Noir’s arm was still on her shoulder. It shook her out of her daze. They were still crouched between the pews in the Notre Dame.

“Sorry, Chat. Got lost for a second there.” From beyond the walls, she could hear fresh bouts of screaming. Near her foot, an eddy of dust swirled by. She looked at it and tried to focus on calming her breathing.

Chat was right: if they couldn’t do this, no one could.

This was their normal.

“Okay, here’s the plan.” Plans made her feel good. It was something concrete and actionable. “We go out the back entrance and make our way into the garden, whatever it’s called.”

“Square Jean-XXIII,” Chat interrupted.

Her partner was smart. “Sure, the garden. It’ll be closed to the public at this point, so we don’t have to worry about any collateral damage. There’s two of them, so we’ll have to make sure they don’t split us up. Once we get them out there…”

She let the sentence die. “Once we get them out there…?” Chat Noir repeated.

Ladybug racked her brain for ideas. But instead of anything helpful, she just had memories: her mother, tucking extra snacks into her bag. Her father, epically destroying her at Ultimate Mecha Strike III. The three of them, at the dinner table, eating whatever dessert had been saved for the evening.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

At the other end of the cathedral, the doors smashed open.

Her father strolled through the splintered remains. His face was calm, but Ladybug could see a hint of a smirk on his face as he adjusted his tie. He started to slowly walk down the central aisle.

Ladybug saw multiple places she could use for her yo-yo, but she was hesitant to accidentally break something. What if her ladybugs couldn’t bring back ancient relics? Would restored artifacts still count as originals, or would that destroy the religious value?

Her father started to throw macarons again. A part buried deep within Ladybug wanted to laugh at the idea of dodging macarons – but maybe later. As Ladybug started to spin her yo-yo in attack, she felt a breeze at her back. She turned just in time to dodge a macaron from her mother.

She and Chat went back-to-back as her parents approached from each side.

“I want you to know something, Princess,” Chat grunted. Ladybug could feel his shoulder blades through her outfit. “When I got hit… what I saw. It was you. Dying.”

“What?” Her mother was getting even closer. Ladybug wasn’t sure how to switch into an offensive position, not without opening Chat’s back up to an attack. From above, the glass figures in the rose windows seemed to glare down on their predicament. “What do you mean?”

“As it turns out, my greatest fear isn’t dying or drowning or spiders. It’s losing you.”

And Ladybug paused.

It was a moment of weakness – his honesty caught her off guard, and her yo-yo stopped for only a second. But it was enough time for her mother to dart forward and to grab her by the wrist. “No!” she shouted, while she could hear Chat yell “Ladybug!”

In a fury, she twisted her wrist, forcing her mother to let go. Ladybug reached for her yo-yo –

But the macaron hit her squarely in the chest.

And the next thing she knew, she was falling.

* * *

_She is at home._

_Marinette sits in front of her computer with a strange feeling in her stomach. She feels as if she’d just been somewhere important. She feels an emptiness that has no cause._

_The late afternoon sunlight is pouring in through the window. The floorboards creak as she walks over. Her eyes hurt as they adjust to the bright sunlight, but she eventually sees a young child riding his bike as his mother watches. An elderly couple stroll down the street. On the Seine, small tourist boats are lazily floating down the river._

_Everything is fine._

_She looks at her walls, and they are bare. There are no pictures of her friends, or her parents, or even Adrien. Perhaps her mother had cleaned up her room without her permission._

_Somewhere along the river, birds are shrieking._

_She opens the trap door to the apartment downstairs. “Mom?” she yells. Nothing. “Dad?” She slowly walks down the steps, and her breath catches in her throat when she sees the rooms below._

_The furniture is covered with white plastic sheets. There are dead flowers in the windowsill. On the counter are condolence cards. She skims the cards as fast as she can._

_We’re sorry for your loss-_

_Let me know if I can do anything-_

_You’re in my thoughts-_

_The cards pool at her feet as they fall through her fingers. Without reading any more, she runs down to the bakery. Like the rest of the apartment, it’s boarded up._

_The door is unlocked from the inside, and she rushes into the street. She sees the child and his mother that she saw from her window._

_“Excuse me!” she runs over. The mother looks afraid, and gestures for her son to wait behind her. “What happened to the people in there? Above the bakery?”_

_The woman’s features melt from hostility to sadness. “You didn’t hear? Ladybug failed them. They all died in an akuma attack.”_

_“Who died?” Marinette leans closer to the woman, who takes a step back. “Who? The bakers?”_

_“Others, too. The famous model boy. A few of his friends. Ladybug couldn’t keep up with the akuma. Hawk Moth took her Miraculous, and he killed everyone she loved. Their deaths were slow and painful.” A strange look passes over the woman’s face. “And it’s all your fault, Marinette.”_

_“No.” This time, it’s Marinette who takes a step back. She notices that the other people on the street are all walking towards her now. “I’m not- I didn’t kill them -”_

_“You did.” This time, it’s the boy._

_“You killed your parents. Adrien. Nino. Alya.” It’s the elderly woman from before who is speaking. “And you’ll live with this regret for the rest of your life.”_

_They are crowding her, reaching out to her, she’s claustrophobic, she can’t see or hear or think or breathe, their hands are on her, tearing her apart, she’s tearing herself apart, she is shrieking, there is a bright light behind her eyes, it’s pulsing, its screaming, she can’t bare any more-_

* * *

Ladybug crashed down to the cold ground of the Notre Dame. Her throat felt like it was bleeding.  She coughed a little, and realized it _was_ bleeding. The bitter taste of blood slid down her throat.

“Glad you’re back to reality,” her mother says. “Hawk Moth wanted you awake when I take your earrings.”

She felt as if she were waking up from a ten-year nap. How long had she been out? Her entire body was wrapped in a thick, heavy rope, with only her head free to move. She was still in the Notre Dame, not far from the pews where her and Chat had been hiding-

“Chat!” she yelled.

“My partner is taking care of him,” her mother drawled. She dragged Ladybug over to the dais at the head of the church. Her vision was blurry, but she concentrated on the sculptured figures above her.

“You were screaming about your fear, you know,” her mother said. “How valiant of you. To be that obsessed with keeping your loved ones safe.”

“It wasn’t real,” Ladybug seethed. “It was all in my head.” If she could just wiggle her arm towards her yo-yo, she could do something.

“Are you looking for this?”

Her mother was holding up her yo-yo.

“You need to fight this,” Ladybug plead. Tears gathered at her eyes as the desperation truly hit. “You’re not this person. You don’t spread fear, or hurt, or hate. And I know someone hurt you.”

Ladybug paused, took a breath, and continued. “I hurt you. And I’m sorry. But please come home, Mom.”

Her mother’s features softened, and Ladybug could see the woman she really was. Maybe, if she kept talking-

But only a second later, Hawk Moth’s familiar mask appeared on her face. Ladybug held her breath. _Fight it, Mom._ And yet her mother’s eyes narrowed, and she clenched her fists. “As you wish, Hawk Moth.”

Her mother stretched a hand towards her ears. Ladybug thought this moment would be different. She thought her mind would be blank, or consumed with the struggle to get away. Instead, memories smashed into her like a wave: _Passing notes in class with Alya; watching stupid Youtube videos with Tikki; smelling cinnamon in her parents’ bakery._ And one final image: _a boy with green eyes._

She continued to struggle against the ropes, but the more she thrashed, the more they burned into her. “You will _never_ win,” she spat.

Her mother smiled down at her. “I just did.”

She reached down and started to pull off one of Ladybug’s earrings. Ladybug violently whipped her head away – but it was all too easy for her mother to pluck the first earring out of her ear.

She could feel her mask start to dissolve away. Instead of the warm rush of magic that welcomed her transformation, this was a slow pins and needles sensation that prickled at her arms.

All too soon, the second earring was gone. The pins and needles turned into a scorching feeling that rushed through her body. For a moment, all she could see was a red glow as the transformation completely left her.

“Marinette!” A high-pitched cry came from the earrings.

“Tikki, no!” Marinette instinctively tried to reach out, but the ropes pulled her back in. She yelped in pain; without the suit protecting her, the ropes hurt a lot more than she expected. Her tears left dark stains on her shirt. “No! Stop! Please, I’ll do anything.”

But her mother wasn’t listening; she was looking off to the side, Hawk Moth’s mask glowing on her face. Her fist closed tightly on the earrings as Marinette starred in horror. The words seemed to drain from her lips: “Tikki…”

“Yes, Hawk Moth,” her mother said obediently. Marinette wished she could hear the other end of the conversation. The next thing she knew, her mother leaned close into her face. “At least Chat Noir isn’t here to see you like this. But I hear he’s worse off than you are,” she added.

“Where is he?” Marinette was only vaguely aware of her arms bleeding from the rope. But at least the tears had stopped – it felt like she had run out of emotions. “Please! Please.”

“He’s not even here any more. I need to deliver these now.”

“Hawk Moth is lying to you,” Marinette choked out. She looked up at the ancient rose windows, and asked for help from the universe. “He won’t let you keep your powers. He’s using you to get my Miraculous.”

The universe didn’t answer.

Her mother didn’t say goodbye as she walked down the aisle, out of the splintered door, and into the wet Parisian night.

* * *

 She was found the next morning by a very surprised janitor.

Marinette convinced him that some bullies had tied her up and left her there, so she didn’t get a trespassing ticket. The kind janitor gave her his own lunch sandwich and a metro ticket. She asked if she had seen another boy – “blond hair, green eyes, about this tall?” – but he hadn’t.

When she emerged from the cathedral, the sky was already awake with pinks and yellows. The only evidence of the rain was the wetness on a few leaves of the trees that lined the courtyard.

Paris was still standing. Hawk Moth hadn’t put his plan into motion yet, whatever it was.

She couldn’t stop touching her ears, and feeling the blankness of smooth skin. She wished she could complain to Tikki.

Tikki…

She got on the metro at the Cité station, and took it all the way back to her apartment. As she stood outside of the bakery, she had no idea what to expect. By this point, the day was in full swing. Pedestrians navigated around her as she stood in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the bakery. It took a moment for her to realize that a police car was parked outside.

The last time she had seen the bakery, it had been in her nightmare vision. She took a moment to appreciate the colorful signs and bright window displays, rather than the boarded-up version she had seen.

“Marinette!”

The next thing she saw was her mother bursting through the bakery doors towards her, arms outstretched. Her father wasn’t far behind.

Marinette was engulfed in a massive hug. “We were so worried about you,” her mother said, burying her head into Marinette’s side. “We were so scared.”

“It’s a miracle you’re home,” her father added. It was the first time she’d ever seen him cry, and it was here, in the middle of the street.

“I’ll come back later for a statement.” From across the street, she saw Sabrina's Dad wave and get into his police car.

“I’m not quite sure what happened last night,” Her father said, shuffling them all towards the bakery. “You weren’t in your room when we went to get you to for dinner. And then, well, neither your mother or I remember what happened. We woke up here a few hours ago. And we heard on the news that there was a lot of akuma action last night, so we figured you might have been victimized or something-”

They didn’t remember anything.

Of course not.

Marinette hated lying to her parents, but at this point, it was second nature. “I was up on my balcony, and one of the akumas took me. I’m sorry for missing the reservation.”

“Oh, honey,” her father reached over for another hug. “It’s just a dinner. We’ll have plenty of meals in our lifetime, but we’ll only ever have one daughter.”

Her parents wanted to close the shop for the day, but Marinette said it would be good to return to normal. She ended up spending the afternoon selling pastries and other baked goods to happy customers. When she saw the macarons neatly lined up in the display case, she felt sick.

Finally, when the sun was starting to sink below the horizon, she made her way up to her balcony.

And she cried.

She muffled her sobs as best she could. With the street traffic below, it would be hard to hear her, but she didn’t want to attract any more attention. She cried for Tikki, for Chat, and for herself.

She thought about Chat – the only other person in the city of millions who felt the loss as keenly as she did. Had he escaped with his Miraculous? She doubted it. She wished they could cry together, but it was Marinette’s stubbornness that had kept them from revealing their identities to each other.

Because of her, they were stuck suffering alone. Without the two of them, Paris would be susceptible to the next phase of Hawk Moth’s plan.

The thought made her sit up on the chaise lounge. Even if she didn’t have Tikki, she could still look out for the safety of Paris’ citizens. And maybe she would run into a blond-haired boy at the same time.

But tonight, she was exhausted. She would go to bed, and things would be easier tomorrow.

* * *

It never got easier.

For the first few days, she would patrol every night. She only ever ran into a few drunk students, and once, a carjacking. She had called the police, and they had carted the criminals away.

She picked up more shifts at the bakery, so she dropped her patrols to once a week, and then once a month.

Sometimes, Marinette would buy Tikki’s favorite cookies at the grocery store, and would only realize her mistake when putting them away in the cupboard. Other times, on warm nights, she would yearn to jump across the rooftops of Paris and to watch the glittering array of lights from atop the Eiffel Tower.

It wasn’t easier – it was just a new normal.

She let herself feel miserable, feel angry, feel furious – and she wryly remembered that not too long ago, if she had been a civilian, she would have been akumatized for these emotions.

After she’d cried her heart out in the shower, or smashed her pillow, she felt better. She would call up Alya, or start a new sewing project, or go for a run along the Seine.

The problem with Paris was that every building, every corner, carried a shadow of her and Chat. She remembered evacuating that café, or diving off that bridge, or hiding behind that bench. The worst part was seeing people who she’d rescued as Ladybug. _Don’t you remember?_ She wanted to scream. _Did it ever really happen?_

They would walk past her, and she felt like a ghost.

She was haunted by the past.

For the first few months, she floundered. It didn’t help that Adrien had moved into his aunt’s house in another arrondissement, so when school started again, he would no longer go to Françoise-Dupont.

He hadn’t even told her. Even though they didn’t talk much, Marinette would have appreciated some sort of goodbye or “let’s stay in touch".

Instead, she heard it from Nino, who had received the news via text. From the way Nino’s eyes narrowed as he told her the news, Marinette could tell that he was pissed at his best friend.

She did her best to act normal, but if she noticed that Alya made an effort for more sleepovers and more hangouts, she didn’t say anything. She quietly accepted her friend’s silent support, and she did her best to get through each day.

A year after losing Tikki, she read an article in _Le Monde_ about a local organization that was looking for volunteers to visit elderly patients in retirement homes. She emailed the organization that night to sign up.

_I don’t need spandex to be a superhero,_ she told herself, and she almost believed it.

She pictured the loss of Tikki and her Miraculous as a big hole in her heart. Tikki had been her closest friend and her constant companion. While nothing could fix the gaping loss, there were other things she could love and cherish just as deeply.

In the second year, Alya and Nino officially started dating, and Marinette was so happy for her friends that she felt like things were okay. The two of them made an effort to make sure she didn’t feel like a third wheel, and included her to lunchtime trips to cute bakeries or new restaurants.

They even held a few parties, with Kim, Max, Juleka, and all of her other friends. Finally, Marinette felt like she could breath.

And after that, she stopped counting the years.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Marinette knocked softly on the door as she opened it. She knew Madame Gao would be expecting her.

“Marinette! So good to see you.” Madame Gao placed her teacup on a side table, where it perilously perched next to the edge. “Has it only been a week since I saw you last? It feels like it’s been longer.”

“Hi, Madame Gao. Let’s get these curtains opened.” Marinette dropped her bookbag on the chair, and carefully drew back the curtains.

The view wasn’t spectacular – the room looked out over a parking lot – but at least it let in some natural light. On her way back to her usual chair, Marinette moved the teacup away from the edge of the table.

It was a carefully practiced routine. Every Saturday afternoon, Marinette would open the curtains, move the tea, and take a seat next to Madame Gao’s bed. There was something relaxing in knowing how every movement would unfold.

Despite the fact that Marinette had been Madame Gao’s Friendly Visitor for three years, not much had changed. There was still her twin bed that faced the unused TV; still the overflowing bookcase next to her side table; still the porcelain animal figurines that lined a shelf on the wall. Her clothes were kept in a drawer near the ensuite bathroom. In the corner, a CD player regurgitated the same Edith Piaf songs Marinette heard every week. 

Madame Gao herself was so tiny that Marinette felt like she might accidentally break the woman if she hugged her too tightly. Deep wrinkles lined her face as proof of years of experience.

“Thank you, darling. How have you been?” Madame Gao gazed at Marinette over her glasses. “I hope Alya and Nino are doing well.”

Marinette had expected the question. It was the same question she was asked every Saturday.

The staff at the Centre Catherine Labouré where Madame Gao lived had warned Marinette that the elderly woman struggled with memory loss. Marinette didn’t mind; everyone deserved to socialize and to have a kind face to talk to. If that meant having the same conversation once a week, then so be it.

Over many cups of tea, Marinette learned that Madame Gao was born in China, and had immigrated to France when she was younger. Marinette knew she had worked as a librarian for many years, but other than that, the woman’s life was a mystery to her. Madame Gao much preferred to talk about Marinette’s own life.

Marinette remembered that she had been asked a question as she sat down on the uncomfortable plastic chair. “They are. Alya’s volunteering with the school newspaper, and Nino is making music.”

Even better, they were still going strong as a couple. They’d just had their anniversary last week. Marinette had taken her place as their number one fangirl.

“Good, good,” Madame Gao said. She reached over for her tea again. “Would you mind if we read again today? I’m afraid I haven’t made much progress on dear Frankl. Maybe next time I’ll pick something a little cheerier. But there’s something very tranquil about his words.”

“Of course,” Marinette said, turning to the woman’s bookcase. They had finished _Man’s Search for Meaning_ many times over, but Marinette would never point that out. 

The wooden bookcase was haphazardly packed with all sorts of eclectic books. Textbooks, cookbooks, paperbacks, and hardbound manuscripts fought for space in a small bookcase that looked as if it had seen better days. She found _Man’s Search for Meaning_ scrunched between a French translation of _The Murder of Roger Ackroyd_ and what looked like a very dull treatise on medicine.

“Madame Gao?” Marinette asked, looking at the frail woman who was lying on top of her patched quilt. She had closed her eyes, and for a moment Marinette had thought she had fallen asleep.

“Hmm? Sorry. Just listening to the music.”

Marinette had tuned out the CD long ago. “Would you like me to turn it off?” She knew the answer already.

“No, but thank you.” Madame Gao smiled. “You’re so considerate.”

“Merci, Madame,” Marinette said. She picked up the book and turned to a random page, and began to read aloud.

These moments were the most relaxing part of her week. In the rush to keep up her grades and putting together her university application, she could forget to slow down and breathe. She let the familiar words of the book roll off her tongue. Half an hour later, she arrived at one of her favorite lines of the book.

“‘When we are no longer able to change a situation,’” she read slowly, “‘we are challenged to change ourselves.’”

She paused.

The memories didn’t hurt as badly now. The evenings spent on sun-drenched rooftops, the feeling of purifying a butterfly, of watching it disappear into the sky.

Marinette wondered if any of it had really happened, or if she had read it in a book somewhere. But she knew – she _knew_ – that it had happened.

It had been real.

She continued to read. Occasionally, she would glance up to see Madame Gao nodding off. Only when the elderly woman started to snore loudly did Marinette put the book down. “Madame Gao? I should probably head out now.”

Madame Gao slowly opened her eyes. “Sorry? Oh yes, of course. Let me just get up-”

“No, no, you look comfy. Stay there.” Marinette got up, went over to the woman, and gave her a quick hug goodbye. “I saw on the community board that lasagna is for dinner. Sounds yummy!”

“Yes, dear. Thanks again for the visit. Say hi to Alya and Nino for me.” Madame Gao gave her a small wave as Marinette gathered up her bag.

“I will. Au revoir, Madame.”

As she walked out of the room, the song from the CD player drifted past her.

 _Non, rien de rien, non, je ne regrette rien_  
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait, ni le mal  
Tout ça m'est bien égal…

* * *

 That evening, Marinette flopped onto her chair with a sigh, and turned on her computer with dread. On one hand, she felt like she had to watch this. On the other, it seemed like self-flagellation. She took a deep breath, navigated to the _TVi News_ website _,_ and went to the livestream.

She was just in time. “Good evening, Paris. My name is Nadja Chamack, and here’s today’s news.”

Nadja ran through the headlines of the day: The economy was beginning to fall, driven by high unemployment; the British Prime Minister would be visiting the French President next week; and Mayor Bourgeois had officially announced his re-election campaign for next March. The segment ended with a fluff piece about high school students that were knitting sweaters for penguins.

The screen cut from the sweater-clad penguins back to Nadja. “Of course, all of Paris remembers that on this day, four years ago, the akuma of this city were vanquished, and Ladybug and Chat Noir were victorious in their final triumph over evil.”

Marinette’s fists involuntarily clenched. Nadja had the story wrong.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir were last seen in the Notre Dame de Paris, but never emerged. It is hypothesized that some sort of final battle occurred. Sadly, our heroes never stepped forward to claim their proper recognition.”

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Nadja continued talking. “Mayor Bourgeois also announced that next year, on the five-year anniversary, a day-long celebration will be held to commemorate the work of Ladybug and Chat Noir. Mayor Bourgeois has put forward a bill to make the day a federal holiday. The bill is expected to pass will minimal opposition.”

Nadja leaned forwards, and put her papers aside. “Ladybug. Chat Noir. If you can hear me, please know that all of Paris would like to say the same thing: thank you.”

Marinette’s jaw hurt, and she realized she’d been grinding her teeth. She was about to close the browser window, but Nadja wasn’t done.

“On a personal note, my life – and the life of my daughter – were saved by Ladybug and Chat Noir years ago. Please join me tonight in sharing your memories of them on social media using the hashtag #MerciMiraculous. Wherever our heroes are, we want to reach them.” She paused, breathless. “I’m Nadja Chamack, and that was today’s news. Goodnight, Paris.”

Watching it had been a mistake.

As hard as Marinette tried to put the past behind her, every July 25th, she watched the news for any reference to Ladybug and Chat Noir.

It was proof that it had happened.

She had been hoping for a sense of relief from watching Nadja’s program, but instead it felt like her skin was itchy from the inside out. Her whole body was shaking with pent-up nerves.

It was the same feeling she had when thinking about Hawk Moth, who was still out there.

He was never far from her thoughts. Every time a car backfired, or even if someone dropped a textbook, she would think that he was starting his final attack. 

Of course, she had tried to warn Master Fu after the Notre Dame incident. She had wanted to ask him for help, to ask if there was any way of tracking down Tikki. But when she had arrived at his massage parlor, all those years ago, it had been boarded up. One of the shopkeepers across the street said that she’d seen a short man in a Hawaiian shirt rush out the previous night. Marinette hadn’t heard from him since.

On her desk, her phone pinged with a message.

 **Alya:** Did you see that? I’m totally going to write a blog post tonight. It’s been way too long since the Ladyblog was updated!

Marinette decided to reply later. She couldn’t physically drag her fingers into typing a response.

She needed air. Worse, her air conditioning was on the fritz, and her room was suffocating. It was an easy decision to climb through the trap door onto her balcony.

It was just as muggy outside. Marinette leaned on the railing, and looked at the school to her left. She had just one year remaining at Françoise-Dupont. There were a lot of things she would miss about the school: her friends, her teachers, and the ten-second commute. Even Mr. Damocles would have a space in her heart.

She sighed and looked towards the rest of the city.

Her time as Ladybug left her with a love of nighttime Paris. While her view wasn’t as good on her balcony as it was from say, the Eiffel Tower, she could hardly complain as she gazed over the river. If she craned her head, she could even see part of the Tower.

“I shouldn’t do this,” she muttered to herself, and pulled her phone out of a pocket in her pyjama shorts. It wasn’t as if she had anything better to do that night. She sat on the chaise chair, and started to scroll through Twitter.

 **@padty4:** Thank you, Lady & Chat, for running towards me while everyone else ran away #MerciMiraculous

 **@VincentAzaCreations:** Ladybug and Chat Noir stopped me from becoming the worst version of myself. Every day I think of them #MerciMiraculous

 **@marie.k** : hey @jfortinz remember when I dropped my Starbucks and got so mad I literally turned into a monster lmao so extra #thankyouLadybugandChatNoirfornotjudging #maybejudgingalittle #MerciMiraculous

The list seemed endless. Marinette was surprised by how many things she had forgotten. Sitting there on her balcony, she mentally relived each one of her adventures. If she closed her eyes, and faced towards the wind, she could imagine she was there again.

Near the bottom – when she got to the tweets that had been published the fastest - there was one in particular that jumped out at her:

 **@Chloe_Bourgeois:** #MerciMiraculous

Marinette snorted. She could hardly imagine Chloe thanking her in person.

Despite Chloe’s bizarre tweet, Marinette couldn’t help but smile as she jumped between various social media platforms. She couldn’t keep up with the deluge of posts. Eventually, her fingers got tired from scrolling, and she put her phone down.

She was alone on the balcony.

An aching loneliness crept into Marinette’s stomach. She would never be that amazing superhero again. She had peaked. She was only eighteen, and the best part of her life was over.

Marinette shook her head. _I can’t think like this._

She didn’t want to be alone, but her parents were out at a movie and Alya would be writing her blog post. She stood up to stretch and grabbed her phone. It was only nine o’clock, so it was too early to head to bed. Maybe Juleka, Rose, or Mylène would be free…?

Movement down below caught her attention.

In the park, on her right, a figure was staring at the statue of Ladybug and Chat Noir. It had been erected over five years ago, but nothing had changed. Ladybug and Chat Noir were forever frozen in their heroic pose.

As much as she appreciated the gesture of the statue, she had never liked how she was standing on Chat Noir’s back. Sure, Chat had always been her support, her step up. And yet, she felt like the statue would have been truer to life if Chat had been immortalized beside her, rather than below her. She wondered if the person looking at the statue thought the same thing.

Marinette was about to look away when the person turned around, and she took in a sharp breath.

There was no way.

The light from the lampposts cast him in a sepia tone, and Marinette wasn’t sure if she trusted her vision. Why would he disappear four years ago, only to appear now?

More importantly, why would Adrien Agreste be looking at a statue of Ladybug and Chat Noir?

The longer Marinette stared, the more confident she was that it was him. He was taller and more muscular, ( _down, girl,_ she said to herself) but it was his posture that gave him away. He always stood as if a camera was focused on him; shoulders back, head up, and one thumb in a jean pocket.

 _I’m over him, I’m over him, I’m over him,_ she chanted internally. Then a breeze caught his hair, and he ran a hand through it, and-

“I’m SO not over him,” she said loudly, before clamping two hands over her mouth. Adrien looked up, and Marinette dropped to her hands and knees before realizing that _her balcony had railings so of course he could still see her._

She crawled over to the trap door before throwing herself down to her room.

At times like those, she wished she could talk to Tikki. As she smashed a pillow over her face, she could almost imagine the conversation in her head.

_“Tikki! This is a disaster! Adrien literally just watched me crawl on my knees. He knew I was watching him. He probably thinks I’m a stalker.”_

Tikki would have laughed and zoomed in to rub her cheek. _“You’re not a stalker, Marinette. I’m sure Adrien didn’t see you.”_

Her kwami had always seen the bright side of things. Tikki’s optimism had been the perfect balance for Marinette’s anxiety and awkwardness. Marinette felt the familiar wave of guilt and sadness wash over her.

She repeated a mantra her mother had once taught her. _This too shall pass._

A sudden pang of anger flashed through her. Adrien was in the area, and he hadn’t let any of his “friends” know. Marinette could feel the anger start to rise in her chest.

Without fully realizing what she was doing, she threw on her running shoes and headed to the apartment downstairs. She hoped she would get back in before her parents got home, but at least they had gone to a late showing.

Only when she got outside did she realize the implication of what she was doing. She had absolutely zero idea what she would say to Adrien. _Hey, thanks for deserting us four years ago. How ya been?_

She stood at the door, unsure if she should go back inside, or continue her half-baked plan of confronting him. She was just about to open the door to go back when she saw Adrien leave the park. Her chance was gone.

Unless…

She knew this was not a good idea. Frankly, it may have been illegal.

As Adrien started to walk west, Marinette followed. She stayed far behind and tried to avoid the streetlights. Only after she had followed him for three blocks did she realize that a) she was still in her pyjamas that had miniature pineapples on them, and b) this was the creepiest thing she had ever done.

Tikki wouldn’t have approved.

She stopped under the awnings of a barber shop, with its neon sign buzzing above her. The whole situation seemed so absurd.

Not only was following Adrien inappropriate, but there was hardly a point when he had made it clear that he had no interest in ever seeing her again. Now she would have to trek home in pineapple pyjama shorts, a tank top, and running shoes. Great. If only she could forget his perfect face and his perfect hair and his perfect smile-

“Marinette.”

She yelped and jumped so high that her feet left the ground.

She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Adrien Agreste standing on the sidewalk in front of her, looking unimpressed.

“Adrien! What are the chances? I was just, you know, out for ice cream, because you’re so hot, I mean, because it’s so hot, and I’m thirsty, I mean, hungry, and-”

She prayed for a chasm to open beneath her feet.

“Do you want to go for ice cream?” Adrien asked. Out of everything she had expected him to say, that wasn’t it. Marinette would have been less surprised if Adrien had told her that he was a lizard alien.

“I’m sorry?” she said, voice almost cracking. She cleared her throat. She was no longer fourteen, and she had to act like it.

“Do you want to go for ice cream?” he repeated. Up close, Marinette could see that he was dressed plainly in jeans and a green T-shirt. “I doubt our old friend André is around at this time of night, but I’m sure we can pop into a café somewhere.”

The anger that had abated came rushing back. She pointed an accusing finger at him. “You disappear for four years, and _now_ you want ice cream?”

Adrien didn’t look upset at her small tirade. More…defeated. He looked towards his feet. “Sorry. Silly idea.” A beat passed. “I’m going to, uh, get going now.”

“Wait.” Marinette’s emotions were bouncing all over the place. As angry as she was, she couldn’t bare to see an old friend look sad. And who would turn down ice cream?

Adrien turned around, a blank expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” she said carefully, as if facing a wild animal. She raised both her hands in a placating gesture. “I was upset, but I’d like to talk about it. It’s good to see you, Adrien.” _I’ve missed you._

“I’d like to talk about it too,” he said. A small smile finally graced his face.

Marinette smiled back. “Great! But, uh, I forgot my wallet at home, and do you mind if I borrow your phone? I should leave a message at home so my parents don’t get worried.”

He shot her a disbelieving look. “You forgot your wallet and your phone?” He gestured to her pyjamas. “And your pants?”

“Well, you know-”

Adrien smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Or you could admit that you were following me.”

Marinette really, _really_ wanted that chasm to open up.

“Look,” she said, hands on her hips. “Was I following you? Yes, because I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn’t figure out a way to open the conversation. Can you imagine?” She lowered her voice, and with her fingers she made air quotes. “‘ _Hey Adrien, why did you ditch your friends four years ago? Have to hook up with a secret girlfriend somewhere_?’”

Adrien didn’t say anything, and for a moment Marinette thought she had crossed a line. But then he threw his head back so far that she thought he’d get whiplash.

“I forgot how feisty you were,” he said, scuffing his shoe against the ground. “How about we continue this conversation somewhere else? I could go for some strawberry ice cream.”

“I’ll pay you back, I promise,” Marinette said. Adrien hmmed in agreement, and she took that as a good sign. If she had to give him money, it meant she would see him again.

They continued for another block until they arrived at a main street. Neither of them were sure if Marinette would be kicked out for what she was wearing, so Adrien ducked into a café alone and returned shortly with a strawberry ice cream cone for himself, and a mint cone for Marinette.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” he said, almost shyly. “I was going to come out and ask, but then the lineup had gotten really deep-”

“Mint is perfect, thanks,” she said as she grabbed the cone from him. Their fingers brushed as she took it from him.

They headed across the street to a park with a playground. It reminded Marinette of her childhood, with slides, monkey bars, and swing sets. It was empty except for the occasional dog-walker or jogger.

The two of them wordlessly passed by benches, and instead headed to the swings. Their footsteps suddenly quieted as they stepped down into the sand of the playground area.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been on these,” Adrien said, settling carefully into his seat. “My Dad always thought they were too dangerous.”

Marinette sat on her own swing, and started to gently rock back and forth. “I always wondered if I could get the swing all the way around the bar at the top, but I never could.”

They didn’t talk as they started on their ice cream. Marinette tried her best not to stare at Adrien’s tongue.

He looked different. She tried to pinpoint it, but she came up short. On the outside, he still looked as freakishly perfect as ever: flawless skin, designer jeans, and hair that magically wasn’t affected by the humidity. But there was something about the way he hunched in on himself that Marinette didn’t like.

Marinette was suddenly reminded of a phrase from a poem she had read the previous semester in her English class. _A sadder and a wiser man._

That was it. He didn’t look like a kid any more. He was an adult with adult problems.

Marinette avoided thinking about her life post-lycée. She couldn’t image not seeing her parents every day, or dealing with taxes, or fighting with traffic on the way to a dead-end job.

She wanted to fly across the rooftops of Paris.

“Marinette?” Adrien prompted, and she realized she’d spaced out. He was looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, I was just really enjoying the ice cream,” she said, taking another lick. “What did you say?”

“I had asked what you’ve been up to, other than following people in the dark.”

Marinette internally cringed. “Okay, I deserved that.” She thought about his question. “Well, I’m hoping to get into IFA’s Fashion Design and Technology program. And after that, who knows?”

Adrien whistled. “Isn’t that program super competitive?”

She nodded. “Only 25 people get admitted in a year. So honestly, I’m freaking out a little about that. It’s not like I have a back-up plan.”

Adrien reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. The movement felt oddly familiar. “Marinette, you’re one in a million. I’m sure you’ll get in.”

“If I’m one in a million, Adrien, then there are 67 people just like me in France.”

Adrien scoffed and squeezed her shoulder before letting go. “You know what I mean.”

She _did_ know what he meant. The only problem was that if she told herself she might get in, she would be jinxing it. By setting her expectations low, she would be happy no matter what happened. If she expected to get in and didn’t, it would be heartbreaking.

“We’ll see. But what have you been up to for four years? Why didn’t you ever drop by and say hi? It’s not like you were ever far away.” Marinette did her best to keep her disappointment out of her voice. She wanted him to open up to her, and that wouldn’t happen if he felt like he was being judged.

With a shrug, he planted his feet into the sand to stop himself from swaying. “It’s kind of a long story.”

Marinette stopped swinging as well. She barely noticed that her ice cream was melting. With one hand, she grabbed one of the chains holding up her swing, and pivoted to face him. “I’m here to listen.”

There was a heavy pause. One of the dogs at the other end of the park started to bark.

“I got kicked out.”

That wasn’t what Marinette was expecting to hear. With a sinking stone in her stomach, she whispered, “What?”

“My father.” Despite the heat, Marinette swore she could see a chill running through his arms. “I… came home late one day.”

“He kicked you out because you came home _late?_ ” Marinette spat. “That’s not possible, that’s probably not even legal, how could he-”

Adrien shook his head. “I think there was something more. I’m not sure what. He was just so mad that night that I thought he would…” he trailed off. “I thought he would hurt me. When he said he was kicking me out, part of me was almost glad.”

The dog, closer to the two of them now, was still barking.

“I can’t believe it.” Marinette was furious. She had blamed Adrien for his disappearance, without even imagining that he might not be fully responsible. But for his own father to kick him out for being late? She’d been late a million times, and her parents had grounded her. Not kicked her out. “That’s awful. I’m sorry, Adrien.”

He gave her a wry smile. “It was four years ago. I’m over it.” From his tone Marinette knew that he was not, in fact, over it.

“Coco! Get back here!”

Marinette’s head snapped up to see a harried woman chasing after the dog that had been barking, its leash now trailing behind it. The dog was sprinting across the park before abruptly stopping on its haunches. It looked to the sky and continued to bark, spittle hanging from its jaw.

Echoes of howls, growls, and barks seemed to emanate from around them. It was as if every dog in Paris had collectively started to wail. The sound was downright haunting as the echoes bounced off the nearby buildings. Marinette and Adrien stared at each other with confused looks on their faces.

“What’s going-”

The words were cut from Marinette’s lips as a swarm of birds suddenly rose from the northwest. They weren’t right over the park, but Marinette watched in horror as the black cloud of birds shrieked over nearby rooftops. From beside her, Adrien mumbled, “They’re flying away from something.”

Somewhere from the main street, they could hear a shout of “Akuma attack!”

“Oh no.” The edges of Marinette’s vision started to go blurry. The pit in her stomach expanded and grew until it threatened to eat away at her entire being.

The city needed Ladybug, and she wasn’t there.

Hawk Moth’s attack was happening.

Four years to the day.

She had to do something. Even without a costume, or super-strength, or even Tikki, she could still do her best to help. If she had to go down, at least she would go down fighting.

If only her vision was clear, or if her stomach didn’t feel so sick, or if her head didn’t feel like it was about to explode. If only she had Tikki, if only she felt brave, if only she were stronger…if only, if only.

“I should head back to my place,” Marinette said, launching out of her swing.  She might not be brave or strong or even have Tikki, but she had to try.

She turned to Adrien, who was staring open-mouthed at the flock of birds that was rising like a tide over the buildings. “I’ll see you later.” She said it as a statement, not a question. His mouth snapped shut and he nodded.

“Bye, Marinette,” he said. He gave a small wave as he jogged over to the main street. She wondered if he would be heading back to his aunt’s house, wherever that was.

She was left alone in the park with ice cream dripping onto her hand. Her fingers twitched to her side, where her yo-yo should have been. She couldn’t hear anything unusual yet, so she figured she must have been far from wherever the akuma was. The metro was sure to be evacuated and shut down soon, so she didn’t have a lot of options.

Her eyes rested on a bike that was leaning against a fence.

There was no lock.

“I’m so sorry,” she said under her breath as she ran over, ditching her remaining ice cream in a trash can on the way over. “I’ll bring it right back.” The bike was meant for someone a bit taller than her, but it would make do.

It had been years since she’d been on a bike. As she made her way out of the park, her feet kept slipping off the pedals, and her hands were sweaty on the handlebars. She wished for a helmet, but she hoped that some of Ladybug’s famous luck would be with her.

Marinette desperately hoped that she would be able to return the bike before its owner noticed it was gone. She was half-expecting someone to yell after her, but nothing came.

The main roads would be packed with panicking people, she figured, so she biked down smaller streets. Her feet were spinning way too quickly on the pedals, but she managed to figure out the gears after a few moments.

She lost track of time as she pedalled furiously towards the direction the birds had come from. Although the residential streets she was on were almost deserted, she could hear shouting and yelling coming from all around her.

A few minutes later, she heard a roar pierce the air.

She steered into a curb and the next thing she knew, she hit the ground palms-first. “What was that?” she said to herself, massaging her wrists. Her hands were scraped and a bit bloody, but it didn’t feel like anything was broken.

The ground trembled beneath her. It stopped. A few moments later, the trembling began again.

It was as if…

Footsteps.

Marinette was shaking as she stood up and picked up the bike. She hoisted herself onto the seat. Once her feet hit the pedals again, her adrenaline forced her to pump faster and faster. Her legs burned with the effort, and she felt like she could keel over at any moment.

Since it was so dark, she barely paid attention to the street names as she careened past stop signs. It was only when she quickly turned a corner and pedaled over a familiar bridge did she realize where she was heading. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

The akuma was in La Défense, the business sector of the city.

Another growl pierced the air.

People had abandoned their cars in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the A14 autoroute, with car doors still open and music still playing on the radio. Marinette didn’t see a single person as she continued to bike towards the skyscrapers that were beginning to tower over her.

The trembling of the earth was worse the closer she got. Every few seconds, the earth would shake so much that she had to fight from losing her balance.

She turned off the A14, and took an overpass at random that seemed to lead in the right direction. At least cars hadn’t been abandoned here, so she could ride in the street.

The low-lying historic buildings had given way to the modern high-rise buildings that reached like glittering fingers into the sky. This part of the city had always confused Marinette, but at night, she had no idea where she was. She could have been in London for all she knew.

The wailing sirens indicated that she was heading in the right direction. She quickly passed by blurry trash cans, billboards, and traffic lights until someone jumped in front of her path.

“Hey! Stop!” A police officer ran out from the building in front of Marinette. He was dressed in heavy black clothing and a bullet-proof vest. A full-faced helmet covered his face, while some sort of shotgun slung across his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing? Get out of here!”

She skidded to a stop, hitting the brakes so hard that they gave a sharp squeal against the asphalt. “We’ve got a perimeter set up!” The officer continued. “No one is allowed pas-”

“Oh my God,” she interrupted, something catching her eye.

They were standing on a long street lined with tall glass skyscrapers and condominiums. A few blocks away, an impossibly large shape had appeared, blocking out the street behind it. It was at least six stories high, whatever it was.

The police officer grabbed a walkie-talkie on his shirt. “It’s heading towards the perimeter! I have a civilian here, I need backup!”

Before Marinette could blink, the officer grabbed her by the waist, plucked her from the bike, and threw her into a storefront alcove. “Stay here,” he snarled. With one swift movement, he had the shotgun in his arms, pointing towards the other end of the street.

The earth shook so much that Marinette though the buildings would collapse on top of her. She closed her eyes, and was vaguely aware of the police officer shouting something.

She opened her eyes, and regretted it instantly.

Standing only a few feet away was a monstrous, wolf-like leviathan that was breathing heavily. When she craned her neck up, she could see long, sharp canines that protruded from its snarling lips. It had sharp talons on its paws that were the size of small cars. But its fur seemed not to be real – instead of something solid, it seemed to be made of black wisps of shadow that furled around itself. The roiling and churning of the fur made Marinette dizzy just by looking at it.

The wolf suddenly sniffed.

Marinette’s heart stopped.

She had just frantically biked a few kilometers. Of course she would be sweaty, and of course her heart would be beating so loudly that anyone in a five-block radius could hear it.

The behemoth howled upwards, stopped, and then turned to look directly at Marinette.

Its eyes had no pupils. Only blank, dark orbs stared at Marinette, and she understood the meaning of true fear. There was nothing there. The wolf barred its hideous hangs at her.

Its sniffing snout inched closer to her. Marinette could feel the heat coming from its nostrils. She scrambled back as far as she could into the alcove before her back rammed into the storefront door. She tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

“No, no, no,” she repeated, yanking and kicking at the door. It wouldn’t budge.

Her hands clenched into tight fists. She would not go down with her back to a monster.

With her breath caught in her throat, she turned to face the wolf. Its face filled her entire field of vision. Up close, the inky churning of the fur was haunting.

Its snout was only inches away from Marinette’s chest. Its jaws opened, and a pungent smell rolled over her. The sharp fangs were coming closer with every passing second. Marinette reached deep within herself for any shred of the superhero she once was.

Maybe there was something still pure within the beast. It was a long shot, but it was the only idea she had.

“No.” It took her a moment to realize that she’d spoken to the wolf. She forced her hands onto her hips and stared defiantly into its eyes. “Bad dog.”

The wolf had the gall to look surprised. It cocked its head to the side.

“You can’t go around terrorizing the city!” Marinette said, wagging her finger. “You have not been a good boy.”

The wolf snarled, but it seemed less menacing now.

“Maybe if you calm down, you can get a treat.” Very slowly, Marinette reached out a trembling hand. The wolf nudged it aside, and before she could react, a very large and very slimy tongue dragged across her entire face. She had to hold onto the wall beside her to avoid getting knocked over by the sheer force of the tongue.

 _That was the grossest thing that’s ever happened to me_ , she thought, but she managed to croak out, “There’s my good boy.”

With its tongue lolling out, the wolf stepped forward-

And then the shots rang out.

The wolf’s roar of pain echoed in Marinette’s ears as it launched backwards into the streets. Marinette cowered against the door frame as bullets were shot into the wolf’s shadowy body – and went out the other side.

“Stop!” she yelled, running into the sidewalk. She almost ran into the group of heavily-armed policemen who were taking aim at the monster. “You’re not doing anything! You’re just hurting it!”

“Get out of the way!” A policewoman yelled, grabbing Marinette and forcing her into an alley lined with graffiti. It reeked of overturned trash cans and spilled beer. “Get out of here before you get shot!”

“You don’t understand-” Marinette said, but the woman had already run back to join her squad.

Her heart still running wild in her chest, she ducked behind a nearby dumpster. What could she do? She wasn’t even sure if this was an akuma or some new type of monster.

For a brief moment, she wished she had Chat Noir crouched down behind her. She was sure he’d have some sort of stupid joke. _“You know, I was never a dog person, my lady.”_ But he wasn’t here, so she was flying solo.

Across the alleyway, a rusty fire escape stretched down to the ground. “Perfect,” she said to herself. At least this way she could have a better view.

Making sure no one was looking, she darted across the alley. The metal stairs rattled under her feet, but they could hardly be heard over the pounding of the firepower only a few feet away. She was only vaguely aware of her palms still stinging from her earlier fall.

It only took her a few seconds to sprint past windows and up to the roof of the building. Marinette ran over to the edge, and dropped to her stomach to peer over the concrete ledge. Her shins protested as they hit the ground too quickly.

“Oh, wow,” she breathed. From up high, she could see the strategy of the police from the light of the streetlights. From one side, a group was firing at the wolf. From the other side of the street, Marinette could see a new contingent of officers running towards them. The wolf had been pinned to the building opposite from her vantage point. It was one of the district’s ultra-modern and all-glass buildings.

It happened so quickly. The second group of officers set into formation: a group of five dropped to their knees and ducked behind riot shields. Next, four officers with snipers ran and crouched in between each of the shields. She could hear the command above the noise: “Fire!”

That had not been a good idea.

The wolf roared, and one of its massive paws raised like a gavel about to strike a judge’s desk. Its claws outstretched, it swiped at the building.

The shattering of the glass was one of the loudest things Marinette had ever heard.

Instinctively, she brought her hands over her head and smashed her face into the concrete. While the angle of the ledge protected most of her upper body, she could feel shards of glass cut into her legs. _Ow, ow, ow_ , she thought. She stayed in the same position for a moment until she was sure that the falling shards were finished.

Peeking over the ledge, she saw the two groups of police officers huddled under their riot shields.

And despite the massive wolf-monster that was ravaging the city, that wasn’t the weirdest part of the night.

The weirdest part was when it _talked._

The wolf’s black eyes suddenly blazed a bright blue. In a booming female voice, it looked at one of the groups of officers and proclaimed “Bring me the Miraculouses of Ladybug and Chat Noir. I will not wait long.”

Turquoise heatless flames suddenly erupted around the wolf. Starting at the paws, the spirals of flames twisted around its legs, circled its chest, and then engulfed its head. The wolf gave one last lingering howl.

Only moments later, the blue flames seemed to collapse in on themselves. In a rush of air, they swooped low to the ground-

And left behind a shaking Labrador Retriever.

“It’s a dog!” someone shouted from below as the dog scampered across the street. “I noticed!” Came the sarcastic response from the other group of police officers.

With the dog gone, there wasn’t much left for Marinette to see. She crawled away from the ledge before carefully making her way back over to the fire escape. With the adrenaline starting to leave her body, she was a lot shakier on the way down.

As she reached the bottom, she swore she saw a blond man disappear down the other end of the alley. _It was just the shadows,_ she thought to herself. Chat Noir wasn't here.

Fortunately, “her” bike hadn’t been moved from where it was lying in the sidewalk. The groups of police officers were talking among themselves, so she darted towards it, brushed the glass off the seat, and started the long bike ride home.

* * *

After leaving the bike where she had found it against the fence, she limped the last few blocks back to the apartment. She was a mess: scraped knees and palms, a ripped tank top, and still wearing her pineapple PJ shorts.

Of course, her parents were up and waiting for her.

“Marinette!” her father exclaimed as she walked through the door. Multiple coffee mugs sat drained on the table. “You’re bleeding!”

“What’s that?” she asked, glancing down. Her knees were in worse shape than she had thought. Little pieces of grit were stuck to the dried blood. “Oh.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” her mother said, lightly pulling her into a hug. “Why didn’t you come straight home when you heard what was happening?”

“Adrien wanted to take me to a new ice cream place in La Défense.” The lie rolled easily off her tongue. “The police kept us there for a while, but I got pushed to the ground when people started panicking.”

“As long as you’re okay, we’re okay,” her father said, wrapping a comforting arm around her. “We can talk about this in the morning. You should take a shower and head to bed.”

“That sounds amazing,” she said. After the long ride home, her muscles felt like they were screaming. She went upstairs to grab a new set of pyjamas before heading back down to the bathroom.

In the shower, she watched as the water ran a light pink from the dried blood. She wished she could throw a Lucky Charm in the air, and watch her injuries magically disappear.

For now, she winced as she sat down in the bathtub to pick out the small bits of dirt that had become embedded in her kneecaps. She let the warm water run over her, which finally helped to calm her heartbeat.

Only when dry and in bed did the questions hit. Was that an akuma? She hadn’t seen a black butterfly. And where had Hawk Moth’s mask been? Unless Hawk Moth wasn’t behind it?

But if not him, then who?

It had been a female voice, she remembered. It had asked for the Miraculouses. _If you find out where they are, let me know,_ she thought sarcastically as she nestled into her sheets. She snuggled deeper against the pillows, and fought the smile that was starting to grow on her face.

She would never, ever admit it...but a part of her that was deep, deep down was excited.

There had been an adventure. She’d been there. She’d witnessed it – and from a rooftop, no less. For those precious few moments, she had felt like herself again. 

She rolled over and saw her phone was still plugged into the wall. On a whim she grabbed it.

The newest notification was from the Ladyblog. She had never deactivated the alerts. Curious, Marinette tapped the notification and brought up the webpage.

The title of the post was called “Reflections”.

_What a night._

_My original post was just a generic letter to Ladybug and Chat Noir, thanking them for all they did. With the events of tonight, we need them more than ever._

_Let me start at the beginning._

_I was thirteen when Ladybug first showed up. I was in a new school and my grandmother had passed away a few months earlier. I felt scared and lonely, even though I tried to be extroverted on the outside._

_When Ladybug landed on the scene, she was cool, calm, and confident. She was everything I wanted to be. When things went wrong, she would fix it. When I looked at her, I felt like I could be all those things she represented._

_I’m sure Ladybug had her shortcomings, too. We all do. But Ladybug chose to put her best foot forward, and to always try. Even when it seemed like the odds were stacked against her, she found a way to succeed. She saw the worst in people, and still tried to help._

_Ladybug and Chat Noir battled the akuma for over a year. They spent countless days, evenings, and nights saving Paris. Think about all they sacrificed in their civilian lives to make sure that the city could sleep safely._

_Now the akuma are back, or whatever the hell that thing was._

_There aren’t many details yet, but we’ve all seen the pictures on social media: a horrifying wolf-thing prowling through the city. It didn’t look like any akuma I’ve ever seen, and trust me, I’ve seen a lot._

_Here’s the thing. I’ve been listening to the police scanner all night. That wolf, that monster – it didn’t harm a single person. It brought fear into our hearts and shattered our sense of security, but no major injuries or fatalities have been reported._

_It wasn’t an attack. It was a warning._

_I don’t think Ladybug and Chat Noir are retired. Remember, four years ago, the Notre Dame doors were still broken the next morning. If Ladybug didn’t return everything to normal, it means that something went wrong.  
_

_And now someone – something? – wants their Miraculouses._

_I have no idea if Ladybug and Chat Noir are okay, or if they’re even alive. I pray that this event sparks their return._

_And when they appear, their silhouettes stark against the stars, you can bet I’ll be there with my phone._

_Catch you next time,_

_Alya  
#MerciMiraculous_


	3. Chapter 3

When Marinette woke up the next morning, she felt more well-rested than she had in years. From her loft bed, she stared at the morning light as it started to sweep across the floor.

She’d spoken with Adrien yesterday. She’d had _ice cream_ with Adrien yesterday.

Well, she’d also gone face-to-face with a massive wolf-monster too… and yet, carrying a rational conversation with her former crush was less statistically likely. Miraculously, she resisted the urge to squeal.

Her back ached as she grabbed her phone, trundled down the loft steps, and headed to her computer. Perhaps Nadja has already done a special news flash, or maybe the police had released a statement.

Marinette was desperate for answers. Why had a monster appeared now? And why did it want the Miraculouses, especially when they had disappeared years ago?

Or maybe they hadn’t. Maybe some other lucky girl had Tikki, and maybe she was practicing how to throw her yo-yo _right now._

Marinette shook her head and rolled her eyes at herself. She couldn’t think about that possibility. As she brought up various news websites, she knew she had bigger problems to deal with.

All of the city’s newspapers had similar headlines: TERROR IN PARIS; PANIC IN THE CITY; CIVILIANS FLEE MONSTER. There was one sketchy site that announced REJOICE, THE ALIENS HAVE RETURNED.

She brought up _Le Parisien_ and read over the article. It didn’t offer much that she didn’t already know: An akuma had manifested in La Défense, had smashed into a few buildings, and no major injuries were reported. No one knew how the akuma had de-transformed.

She kept scrolling until a few lines jumped out at her.

_Body camera footage from police officers show the monster demanding the Miraculouses of Ladybug and Chat Noir, the former heroes of Paris. Representatives from the police force are asking Ladybug and Chat Noir to step forward, if possible, to either explain or to defend us once again._

Marinette tried to ignore the little twinge at the word _former._ She kept reading.

_Despite the police perimeter, a civilian was seen directly confronting the akuma. It is unknown who this woman is, but police officers are reminding civilians to keep well clear of any akuma activity, and to follow evacuation orders._

A grainy picture of Marinette in her pyjamas was underneath the paragraph.

“OH NO.” Marinette clamped her hands over her mouth and prayed that her parents hadn’t heard her. Leaning closer to the screen, she tried to decipher if it was easy or not to determine who she was.

Her phone buzzed from beside her, and Alya’s texts appeared on the screen in rapid succession.

**Alya:** DID I JUST SEE A PICTURE OF YOU WITH THE AKUMA!?

**Alya:** GIRL

**Alya:** GIRL

**Alya:** Nice shorts.

**Alya:** BUT REALLY, CALL ME

Marinette was screwed.

It was only a matter of time before her parents saw. Leaning closer, she analyzed the photo. It had been taken from across the street, likely from someone who hadn't evacuated from the buildings. It was fairly blurry, but there was no mistaking her pigtails or running shoes.

“This is bad,” Marinette said to herself. “Really, really bad.”

She took a moment to think over her choices. Option 1 was to lay low and hope her parents didn’t hear about the picture. Option 2 was to be up-front with them. Option 3 was move to Tasmania and live a life herding sheep.

“I’ll take the sheep option,” she mumbled, standing up. She knew what she had to do.

The railing seemed cold as she walked down the steep steps to the kitchen. Her mother was washing dishes, while her father was reading a newspaper at the table. A plate of fresh croissants was waiting on the counter.

“Morning, sweetheart!” her mother said, putting a plate in the drying rack. “How are you feeling? You look better this morning, but we can take you to a walk-in clinic if any of those cuts are still bothering you.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine,” Marinette said, kissing her mother on the cheek. She walked over to her father and did the same to him before grabbing the seat next to him. She chewed on her tongue nervously before diving into her speech. “So, uh. Just so you know. I didn’t want you to worry or anything, but I ended up getting separated from Adrien last night, and I got pretty close to the akuma. I think there’s a picture on the news or something.”

Both of them started to speak, but Marinette cut them off. “Don’t worry, I’m totally fine, but I wanted to give you a heads up in case anyone pointed it out to you.”

Her father wrapped a huge hand around her, and pulled her to his side. She had to hold onto the table to avoid toppling off the stool. “Oh, Mari,” he said. “You can tell us anything, you know that. I’m disappointed that you didn’t let us know what had happened.”

She could deal with anger, but disappointment stung worse.

He removed his arm, but reached to grab a croissant and passed it to her. “I would say ‘Don’t do that next time,’ but there isn’t going to be a next time, right?”

“No, Dad,” she said, breaking off a flaky piece of the croissant. “I think I’ve had enough akuma for one lifetime.”

It wasn’t necessarily true.

He grinned at her. “Good. I’m not sure if my old heart can handle any more.”

Marinette’s mother chuckled from over at the sink. “Oh, honey. You’re not old. In fact, you’re even more handsome than the day we met-”

“If you’re going to flirt, I’m going to head out,” Marinette laughed, pushing herself off the stool. “I think Alya wants to hang out. We’ll grab coffee somewhere, but I’ll be back in time for my shift this afternoon.”

“No akumas!” her mother said, pointing a finger in her direction.

“No akumas!” Marinette promised, holding out her little finger. “Pinky promise.”

She ran upstairs to her phone, nearly tripping up the staircase. At least Alya hadn’t continued her deluge of texts.

**Marinette:** You’re never going to believe this – I ran into Adrien last night. I need coffee. Want to meet up somewhere?

The response was almost instantaneous.

**Alya:** YOU WERE NEARLY DOG CHOW AND YOU TEXT ME ABOUT A BOY?

Poor Alya was probably jabbing her fingers against the screen so hard that it would break. Marinette could picture Alya raging silently on her phone with the little ladybug charm still dangling from it.

**Marinette:** It’s too early for all caps

**Alya:** Fine

**Alya:** Yes, I want coffee!! I need to grill you on what happened

**Alya:** Meet in half an hour at our usual place? I should get out of bed lol

**Marinette:** Sounds good!

She tossed her phone onto her desk and collapsed into the chair. With everything that had gone on that morning, she hadn’t paused to just sit and think.

On her walls, pictures of her and her friends smiled back at her. One of her favorites was taken last year – all of the girls were smushed together in a group selfie. Alya was holding the camera in one hand, and flashing a peace sign with the other; Rose was pressing a kiss into Juleka’s cheek, who was blushing; Alix was sticking her tongue out; and Mylène had her arms wrapped around Marinette in a hug.

These girls had been a part of Marinette’s life for years. They’d been a part of wacky schemes and late-night movie fests, but she worried that they would drift apart once they graduated.

In a way, it was inevitable. People moved on in their lives and made new friends and went to new cities. But just for now, Marinette wanted to hold onto life as it was, and not let it go.

She was homesick, and she hadn’t even left yet. Then again, it was all a moot point if Hawk Moth was back. There wouldn't be a city to love if there was no city.

“I’ll be fine,” Marinette said out loud. She was always fine. _Fine, fine, fine._

She turned away from the pictures and faced her dresser. Since it was still brutally hot, she opted for a light summer dress and a pair of flimsy sandals. She could only find one hairband, so she tied her hair up in a high ponytail.

There was still a lot of time before she met Alya, so she unlocked her diary from its box and opened a new page. The blank pages seemed almost threatening. On the top of the page she wrote _Questions._

She tapped her pen against the page and thought about the previous night. Her journal seemed pitifully small for all of her questions.

Three in particular jumped out at her. She wrote them down in her neat handwriting:

  * Is Hawk Moth behind the akuma – or is it even an akuma?
  * Where are the Miraculouses?
  * Where is Chat Noir?



The last one bothered her the most. If he was still in Paris, had he snuck past the police perimeter somehow as well? The media reports hadn’t mentioned anyone else.

Sometimes, at random points in the year, she wondered what he was up to. Maybe he was grocery shopping, or getting a haircut, or moodily hanging out on balconies.

Maybe she’d even talked to him in his civilian form.

“I just hope he’s okay,” she said quietly, pushing herself away from the desk. Her phone suddenly chimed.

**Alya** Can you meet me earlier?

Marinette had nothing else to do, and at least this way she could get out of the stuffy apartment.

**Marinette** Sure, no problem

She headed downstairs before seeing if Alya responded. “I’ll see you later!” she said to her parents as she opened the door to the hallway.

“Bye Marinette!” her mother saved, waving. “Oh, I forgot to mention. A package came for you – I’ll put it in your room.”

“Thanks!” she yelled, latching the door behind her. It was probably the fabric samples that she had ordered online.

A wall of heat washed over her as soon as she stepped outside. The heatwave had been going on for a few weeks now. Marinette was hoping it would end soon, or otherwise all of her balcony plants would die a crispy death.

She took her time wandering over to their normal café. The coffee was cheap and there were always available seats, so it was only natural that she and Alya tended to gravitate there when they hung out.

When she turned the corner Alya was already pacing in front of the café. Her mouth was turned downwards, and it looked like she hadn’t showered yet. From the little tag sticking out at the back, Marinette could tell that her t-shirt was on inside-out.

“Hey,” Marinette said in greeting. “Just as a heads up, your shirt-”

“You need to read this,” Alya said, shoving her phone into Marinette’s hand. “I saw it right after we stopped texting. I wanted to tell you in person.”

The screen was open to the _TVi News_ website, where a giant headline was written in capitals.

_ACCLAIMED FASHION DESIGNER GABRIEL AGRESTE FOUND DEAD OF NATURAL CAUSES_

Time stopped. In horror, she read the rest of the article.

_International fashion mogul Gabriel Agreste, 49, was found dead yesterday afternoon. His body was discovered by his long-time secretary after he failed to attend a meeting. Police officers suspect natural causes, although an official autopsy will be performed later._ _Details will be published as more information is released._

_Agreste rose in the fashion industry’s ranks thanks to his critical eye and taste for leading-edge designs. He started his own fashion line,_ Gabriel _, after dropping out of university at 19. By 35, he was CEO of one of France’s most successful fashion and lifestyle brands. Almost five years ago, his life was touched by tragedy following the disappearance of his wife, Emilie._

_Agreste is survived by his son, Adrien._

No.

What an impersonal way to phrase it.

_Agreste is survived by his son, Adrien._

Adrien, the boy who just lost a father. Adrien, the boy who bore too much sadness. Adrien, the boy who bought her mint-flavored ice cream last night.

“Oh my God,” Marinette said. Her hands were shaking. She passed the phone back to Alya before she dropped it. “Adrien.”

“It’s not like we’ve talked in years, but I feel really bad for him,” Alya said. “I just had to rush over here and tell you right away.”

Despite standing in the middle of an empty sidewalk, the tightness of claustrophobia surrounded Marinette. Dark spots were dancing in her vision. “I just spoke with him last night. He was with me. He could have been with his father, having one last night…and instead, he was with me…”

“Don’t think like that, girl,” Alya said, snapping her fingers in front of Marinette’s face. “No one could have predicted this. If he was talking to you, it was because he _wanted_ to.”

Pictures of her parents floated by. She could hardly imagine her father, with his bushy moustache, and her mother, with her kind smile, being dead. Her heart constricted. It was unimaginable for her, but for Adrien, it was a reality.

“We need to do something for him,” Marinette said, clenching her fists. “We’ve got to let him know that he’s not alone.” But what exactly do you get someone who just lost a parent? One of those edible fruit bouquets? A hug? A puppy?

“Maybe a card?” Alya suggested. “We could get everyone in his old class to sign it.”

“Alya! Have I told you you’re a genius?” It was a great idea. It was heartfelt, sincere, and not tacky. She was sure she had plenty of material at home that she could work with…

Alya winked. “I could bear to here that more often.” She paused and added, “I see that gleam in your eye. What are you thinking?”

Marinette was itching to get started. “Let me show you.”

* * *

 The two girls had run all the way back to Marinette’s apartment. Sweating profusely, Marinette had hurriedly explained the situation to her parents, who immediately let her take the day off from the bakery. “Some things are more important,” her mother had said.

Two hours later, Marinette was holding the finished card. “What do you think?” she said, holding it up for Alya.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Marinette!” Alya said, carefully taking the card. “It was a great idea to make the card yourself. It really adds a personal touch.”

“Thanks,” she said, looking at the card with pride. The base was a heavy white construction paper. On top, she had layered small strips of patterned fabrics next to each other in the shape of three hearts. The fabrics were all different, but they were all in shades of blue. She had outlined each heart carefully in black pen. “Have you texted everyone yet?”

“Yeah, everyone is on board,” she said, waving her phone. While Marinette had been working on the card, Alya had been texting Adrien’s old classmates and had updated them on the idea. “Everyone said they can meet us at the park. It’s lucky no one is out of town or anything. Can you be ready in twenty minutes? That’s when I told everyone to meet.”

The card didn’t have any more details to fix, so Marinette nodded. One of her guilty habits was working on something so long that she kept making changes that only made things worse. She figured she should stop while she was ahead.

The selfie picture on the wall caught her attention. Her friends were frozen in that perfect moment. “Alya,” she said slowly. “This might seem like a weird question, but do you think everyone will still be friends in a few years from now?”

“That’s kind of dark,” Alya said, looking up from her phone. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing in particular,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “It’s just hitting me lately that this is the last summer everyone will have together before we scatter for university or wherever.” She gestured to the picture. “If we’ll lose things like that.”

Alya stood up and walked over to the picture. “Didn’t Rose and Juleka have a fight that day over something stupid? I don’t even remember what it was about.”

“Yeah, but the picture was taken afterwards,” Marinette said, looking at the two girls.

“And I think Alix’s bike was stolen earlier that week.” Alya walked over and crouched next to Marinette’s chair. “All I’m saying is that I think you’re focusing too much on the past, Marinette. You can’t glorify it that much. I don’t know what’ll happen in the future, but I can guarantee you that we’ll be friends. I’m sorry to say that you’re stuck with me.”

Marinette gently ribbed her friend, who laughed and stood up. “I wouldn’t put it that way. Anyways, let’s head to the park and see if anyone got there early.”

Her parents passed her and Alya sandwiches on their way out the door. Only when she bit into the bread did she realize how hungry she’d been.

“It’s nice to have a normal sandwich for once,” Alya said, biting down on a piece of avocado as they crossed the street to the park. “My mom is always experimenting with something funky. Like yesterday we had shrimp sandwiches. Shrimp! On bread! It was a soggy disaster.”

Marinette laughed and pointed at a nearby picnic table. “Kim and Alix are already here. Maybe they’ll like the idea of shrimp sandwiches.”

As it turned out, no one liked the idea. As more and more of her friends showed up, Marinette felt better. Despite everyone gathering for a sad situation, it was good seeing everyone. She hadn’t seen some of them in weeks, since everyone was buried with summer jobs.

Even though they all went to the same school, most of their classes were electives now, so they were rarely all together. With all her old classmates in one spot, Marinette felt like she was fourteen again.

Everyone was talking among themselves, with most of the conversation centering around the previous day’s akuma attack. Marinette was blatantly eavesdropping, and to her relief no one was talking about her picture that had been in the news. She hoped no one saw the various scrapes covering her hands and knees.

Alya tried snapping her fingers for everyone's attention, but it didn’t work.

She jumped onto one of the picnic table benches. “Can I have your attention!” she yelled, causing some nearby pigeons to scatter. Everyone stopped chatting and Alya lowered her voice. “As you heard, our old friend Adrien’s dad passed away. I know none of us really liked his old man – rest in peace – but we’re doing this for Adrien.”

“I don’t want to seem super rude,” Sabrina said, raising her hand in the back, “but why are we doing this if no one has seen him in years?”

Nino jumped in before Alya could speak. “Because he was our friend. I don’t know what’s going on in his life, but he needs to know that we’re thinking of him.”

Marinette was impressed with Nino’s defense. She knew he still held onto some deep resentment for the way Adrien had ditched them years ago.

“He always seemed lonely to me,” Juleka said. She was sitting on the picnic table bench that Alya was standing on.

“I agree!” Rose chimed in from beside her girlfriend. “He always looked so nice on the posters, but if you really looked at him, he always seemed… off.” Rose frowned at the thought.

This time it was Nathaniel who spoke. “Once I dropped my pencil case, and Adrien helped me pick everything up.”

“He helped me in physics once,” Max said, pushing his glasses up his nose. His robot Markov hovered next to him. “He didn’t even make fun of me for not knowing the answer.”

“He’d listen to my music with me, even though I don’t think he liked it very much,” Ivan added.

The next thing she knew, Marinette was listening to everyone in the class recounting their stories of how Adrien had done something nice for them, or had helped them out in a situation. Even Sabrina eventually admitted that once he had given her his jacket when she had spilled ketchup on herself.

"Adrien isn't perfect, you know," Nino muttered under his breath from beside Marinette. _There_ was the attitude she was expecting.

“And what’s your story, Marinette?” Rose prompted, looking at Marinette with her doe eyes. “What’s Adrien done for you?”

Marinette blinked. She’d crushed so hard on him that it blinded her to most of the day-to-day interactions with him. Looking back, most of her time spent with Adrien seemed to be coated in a pink haze. “He gave me his umbrella once in the rain,” she blurted.

Rose clasped her hands together. “That’s so romantic!”

“I can’t believe you two never got together,” Nino said. He adjusted his sunglasses. “I thought you’d eventually learn how to string a sentence together around him. Half the class had bets on it.”

“Are you _serious?_ ” she yelped.

From the back of the group, Kim yelled “I lost twenty euros on that bet!”

Everyone laughed. Marinette expected Alya to add something along the lines of, _“Get it, girl!”_ but her friend had disappeared from the picnic table. Looking around, she spotted Alya gesturing furiously with Max from behind a nearby tree.

_That’s weird,_ Marinette thought. Why would Alya and Max be hiding their conversation from the group?

She didn’t want to be obviously staring at them, so she kept them in her peripheral vision as she carried on a conversation with Nino as the card was passed between people.

“I heard you and Alya are going on a date tonight, ladykiller,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Nino chuckled. “If you think marathoning all three seasons of _Zombie Slasher Slayer XXV_ is a romantic date, then sure,” he said.

Marinette took a moment to look over her best friend’s boyfriend. In the words of Alya, he had seriously “glowed up” over the years. He had hit a growth spurt around sixteen, and stood taller than most of the other guys in the class. His jeans were designer – the same brand that Adrien had worn the other night – and he wore a black t-shirt despite the heat.

“If I’m going to be France’s next Daft Punk, I’m going to have to look the part,” he’d told Marinette and Alya a year ago. Alya had pointed out that Daft Punk didn’t show their faces, and that would be a sin in Nino’s case, so he’d better pick a better performer to emulate.

Snapping back to the present, she looked up at him and said innocently, “Have you seen Alya?”

Nino gestured nonchalantly over to the tree. “She’s with Max. Probably trying to make out with him or something.”

Marinette blanched. “She what now?”

He snorted. “You should see your face, Mari. Don’t worry, I’m just kidding. I’ve got no idea what they’re talking about.”

Alya and Max seemed to sense that they were being stared at. With a few more heated words, they wrapped up the conversation and went back to the main group. Max and Markov went to join Kim and Nathaniel, while Alya went to Nino and Marinette.

“What was that about?” Marinette asked.

Alya coughed. “Nothing. Let’s just say Max is hard to buy off.”

She wouldn’t talk about the subject any more, so Marinette took the time to think about what she would write in the card. A few people, like Sabrina, only wrote a few words. It looked like Mylène was crying as she wrote her paragraph.

Only when the card landed in her lap as the last person did she realize that she still had no idea what to put.

Most of her friends had drifted off after they wrote their part, saying they had to get back to work or to some other commitments. Only Nino and Alya remained around the picnic table.

“Just let your heart speak,” Nino said sarcastically.

“I don’t want to come across too sentimental,” she said, reverting back to her habit of tapping the pen against the table. “This may be the last time I talk to him.”

“So then make some sort of offer,” Alya suggested. “Give him something to talk to you about.”

Marinette nodded. “Something to talk to me about. Right.”

She leaned over the card and carefully wrote out her message. Her writing was a little sloppy, since she was writing over the bumps in the picnic table, but she was happy enough how it turned out in the end.

“Alya!” A sudden realization jumped out at Marinette. “Our whole plan is flawed. We have no way of giving this card to Adrien! We have no idea where he lives or how we can even get in contact with him.”

Her best friend huffed. “Believe it or not, I thought of this. As much as it kills me to say this, we do know someone who can get the card to Adrien.”

Marinette was dumbfounded. “Who?”

* * *

_Le Grand Paris_ hotel had never made Marinette feel comfortable. The grand staircase, elaborate chandeliers, and stone floors were a far cry from her own cozy apartment where she could cuddle up with a blanket and watch TV. She could hardly imagine growing up around such opulence. Nino had flat-out refused to come, saying the hotel “harshed his vibe.”

“Hey Jean!” Alya called, waving at a sharply-dressed man who was standing by the check-in counter. He dropped something off at the desk before making his way over to the two girls. Since Alya’s mom was head chef at the hotel’s restaurant, Alya was on a first-name basis with most of the staff.

“Mademoiselle Césaire! To what do I owe the honor?” he asked, bowing his head slightly.

“Is Chloe around? We need to give her something,” Alya said, flashing the envelope. “We won’t be long.”

Jean wrapped a skinny finger around his pencil moustache. “Mademoiselle Bourgeois asked not to be disturbed today.”

“Please, Jean, it’s important. We’ll be in and out in under five minutes. Promise.” Alya gave him her best innocent look. Marinette guessed that Jean wasn’t used to Chloe having any guests.

He sighed. “Fine, fine, but don’t bring my name into it. You know how she gets. Take the elevator to the fifth floor.”

“You’re the best, Jean, thank you!” Alya said, taking Marinette by the hand and leading her to the elevator bank. Under her breath, she said, “Chloe doesn’t deserve to boss around a man as nice as him.”

Marinette fought back a flashback of Despair Bear, which was one of the weirder villains she had faced. “Yeah, he’s really nice.”

The elevator dinged as the doors opened. They walked inside and hit the button for Chloe’s floor. “I just thought of something,” Marinette said as the elevator quickly rose.

“What’s that?”

“Well, we got everyone to sign, but we didn’t even think of asking Chloe. Do you think she’ll mind?” Marinette could feel the guilt rolling around in her stomach. Chloe hadn’t even been a passing thought.

The doors chimed opened and Alya rolled her eyes. “Chloe won’t care. She’s heartless.”

“I’m what now?”

Standing in front of them in the hallway just outside the elevator doors was Chloe herself with one hand on her hip. She was wearing distressed white shorts and a flowery top. From the purse slung over her shoulder, it looked like she was on her way out. “No, keep going,” she said acidly. “I’m what?”

“Oh, heeeeyyy Chloe,” Marinette said, stepping out of the elevator with Alya. The doors closed shut behind them. “We were just talking about our other friend Chloe, who you don’t know at all.”

“Right,” she drawled, inspecting her fingernails on one hand. “Why are you invading my home? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Like I said,” Alya jumped in, “Heartless.”

Chloe’s eyes shot daggers into Alya. For a second Marinette was worried that the two girls would jump at each other. “Okay, let’s all chill a bit,” Marinette said, awkwardly laughing. “I think we started this conversation on the wrong foot.”

Chloe tapped one of her high heels against the ground. “Why are you here? Let’s get this over with so I can return to shopping and you can return to your peasant lives.”

It was unnerving to hear Alya actually _growl._ Marinette was hoping no blood would be shed, since she didn’t want to foot the bill to steam-clean the carpet.

“Adrien’s dad just died, and you want to go shopping? How can you be so callous?” Alya spat, stepping forward. Alya likely had no such misgivings about the carpet. This time Marinette grabbed Alya by the shoulder and pulled her back before she got too feisty.

Chloe’s face froze. For a moment, the only thing Marinette could hear was the distant chiming of the elevator on another floor. “Adrien’s father died?”

The tension drained from Alya’s shoulder, and Marinette let go. “You didn’t know,” Alya said. It wasn’t a question.

“What happened?” Chloe asked, dropping her arm from her hip.

Alya shrugged. “No idea. The news hasn’t updated their story yet, but they suspect natural causes.” Alya stopped. Marinette could hear the effort behind each word as her friend said, “I’m sorry you found out this way. I know your families were close.”

For a moment Marinette thought Chloe would yell or scream at them. Instead, she leaned against the hallway wall. It was unsettling to see. “He didn’t text me. Or call me. I don’t even know where he lives.”

“I thought he lived with his aunt?” Marinette said.

“Adrien doesn’t have an aunt,” Chloe said blankly, before realizing what she said. Her eyes widened for a moment before she shot an accusing finger at them. “You did not hear that from me. Understand?”

That was news to both Marinette and Alya, who looked at each other in shock. “Adrien lied to us?” Marinette said quietly. She remembered reading the text he had sent Nino four years ago, which clearly laid out the fact that he was moving in with some aunt none of them had ever met.

“If it makes you feel better, he didn’t tell me where he was going either,” Chloe said. Her eyes looked red. “I haven’t spoken to him since he left Françoise Dupont.”

“But you do have his number?” Alya asked. If Chloe didn’t have a way of getting in touch with Adrien, then their hard work on the card would be worthless. Even worse, Adrien wouldn’t know that his former classmates were thinking about him.

“I texted him for months after he left, but he never replied. I’m not sure if he got a new number or was just ignoring me. Why?” Chloe stood up straight, and her hand was back on her hip. Back to normal, then.

It would take some delicate work to get Chloe to agree, Marinette realized. “Well, Alya and I were hoping to show Adrien that we still cared about him, and that we support him right now. So we got everyone to sign a sympathy card for him.” She gestured to Alya, who took out the card.

“Everyone?” Chloe said, eyeing the card.

“His old Françoise Dupont friends,” Marinette said. “We were hoping you would be able to pass it on to him. You’re the only person we know who might be able to get in contact with him, since you’re old family friends.”

Chloe nodded and stuck out a perfectly-manicured hand. “Give it to me. I’ll see what I can do. Even if he doesn’t respond to my texts, I’m sure my father can track him down somehow.”

“Really?” Marinette said, excited. She hadn’t expected her to agree so easily. She was grateful she hadn’t needed to bribe Chloe with the idea of doing her homework for a week. “Thanks, Chloe. That’s really nice of you.”

“Whatever.” Despite being in the hallway, Chloe slid down her sunglasses. “I’ll put this in my room. By the time I get back, you should be gone.”

“Message received,” Alya said, offering a mock salute and hitting the elevator’s down button.

Chloe turned away, and offered a truly awe-inspiring hair flip as she did so. Her heels were muffled by the carpet, but she strode away as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “Thanks, Chloe!” Marinette yelled, trying to offset Alya’s sass.

“You don’t have to be quite so mean,” she said to her best friend as they got into the elevator. “She’s doing us a favor after all.”

Alya had the grace to look mildly guilty. “I know, I know. There’s something about her that gets under my skin. It’s because she hasn’t put a hard day’s work into anything. No one has ever told her no.”

It was true. “That’s her parents’ fault, not hers,” Marinette countered. In the lobby, they waved to Jean. They took one last moment to enjoy the air conditioning before stepping out into the street.

“Don’t make apologize for her awful behavior,” Alya said. “My mom told me that once she sent back a salad _three times_ because it didn’t have the proper lettuce-to-dressing ratio. I didn’t even know that was a thing!

“Neither did I,” Marinette said. She was still thinking back to the way Chloe had accepted the letter. Something seemed off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

After grabbing iced coffee, the two girls parted ways. It was only the early afternoon, so she could go back and work a few hours at the bakery anyways. Alya wanted to keep working on an article for the community newspaper before her date with Nino. “Say high to Madame Gao for me next time you see her!” Alya yelled as she turned another street.

“I will!” Marinette shouted. She turned towards her apartment and started the walk home.

* * *

  _Heartless._

Chloe Bourgeois was furious.

Stomping into her room, she slammed the door. The thin envelope seemed scalding to touch. She quickly tore it open and scanned the contents. There were so many signatures that there was hardly any space left.

_Adrien, I’m so sorry man. Please reach out to me, we can talk and catch up. You still have my number. When you call, I’ll be there to pick up. -Nino_

_I want to write a song for you, Adrien. I know nothing can help cheer you up right now, but sometimes putting it in music can help. Get in touch with us. Until then, we’re thinking of you.  -_ Mylène

_I know we never talked much, but that was my fault. I hope you’re doing okay. -Sabrina_

Even Sabrina had signed, but her “friend” hadn’t even texted Chloe to give her a heads up about the card. Chloe contemplated deleting Sabrina’s number from her phone before realizing that Sabrina hadn’t delivered her chemistry homework to her yet, so that would have to wait.

The rest of the card was filled with signatures from the rest of the class. _I’m sorry…let’s catch up… we miss you…_ it was all the same. These people didn’t know Adrien like she did.

She hadn’t even been asked to sign the card.

_Heartless._

Part of her wanted to sign the card and put it in a new envelope so that no one knew she had ever opened it. Just as she was reaching out to grab a pen, she saw Marinette’s blurb that took up a large portion of the card.

_Adrien, I really enjoyed talking to you the other night. Honestly, just eating ice cream with you was one of the best moments of my summer! I’m sorry if that sounds cheesy… but it’s true. When I heard about your dad I felt my heart break for you. I have no way of getting in touch with you, but please text Nino! Even if you don’t want to talk, I need to repay you for the ice cream. Or maybe I can buy the ice cream next time. Anyways, sorry for rambling. I just want you know that I’m really sorry and I hope you’re doing as best as you can._

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had gotten ice cream with Adrien?

Adrien hadn’t even texted her, a childhood friend, in years. The last thing he’d asked her was not to tell anyone that he didn’t actually have an aunt. Chloe had kept that promise until today. In one thoughtless moment, she’d forgotten the one thing he’d made her swear to never reveal.

For the past four years, Chloe had harbored the hope that Adrien would reach out to her and explain why he had left. They had suffered through their childhoods together when their mothers spent more time with each other than with their own children. She thought that they were friends.

But Adrien didn’t care about her. Neither, did it seem, did any of her classmates. Without another thought, she crumpled the card and threw it in the trash.

_Heartless._

* * *

 That night, Marinette sat on her balcony chair. The apartment’s air conditioning still wasn’t working, so it was better to sit out there than suffer in the confined space of her room. It was better to be in the fresh air, where she could no longer imagine the hot breath of the akuma on her skin.

Adrien wasn’t far from her thoughts. He might have been organizing the funeral, or trying to get the company’s financial documents in order. Marinette was sure he had a mammoth organizational task in front of him. She wished she had some way of directly contacting him to offer to help.

As for Chloe, how the afternoon had unfolded still didn’t sit well with her. She wished there were some way of knowing when Adrien received the card.

She stood up and leaned against the railing. She couldn’t help but notice that the roses in her one of her planters were starting to wither. As much as she watered them, they couldn’t compete with the heatwave. Even at night, they couldn’t escape from the oppressive temperature.

There was suddenly a dull thump and a soft “Hello” from behind her. In a panic, Marinette realized that she was somehow no longer alone. She spun around-

And stared directly into the green eyes of Chat Noir.

It wasn’t possible.

“What?” Marinette croaked. _This isn’t real, I’m imagining this, there is no way this is happening._

“Do you remember me?” Chat whispered.

It was hard to see him in the dark. The little lights that were strung up on her balcony were hardly enough to see him by, but there was no doubting that this was _the_ Chat Noir. It wasn’t some creepy imposter.

Frankly, it wasn’t how she had imagined their reunion to go. In her wildest dreams, she’d had her own Miraculous as well.

“Do I remember you?” Marinette repeated. She wanted to laugh. She had spent four years desperately trying to remember every last detail, from the way he laughed to the way his fists would tense when he was frustrated.

“Well, it’s not like we met too many times,” Chat said. He was standing in an awkward pose, his arms hanging limp, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “But…”

“But?” Marinette prompted.

Then the most unexpected thing happened.

Chat fell to his knees, and started to sob.

“Oh, Chat,” Marinette said, automatically rushing over to where he was kneeling. Balancing in a crouch, she wrapped one arm around him and put her other hand on his knee. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and held him as he cried.

It was a lot to take in.

Her questions threatened to bubble over. _Where have you been? Have you had your Miraculous for four years? Or did you get it back somehow?_ And the most important question – _What about me?_

With a start, she realized how selfish she was being. The questions could wait.

Her feet were starting to throb, so she stiffly moved from her crouch into a seated position beside him. She ran her hand up and down his arm, not saying anything.

The seconds crawled into minutes. Marinette wasn’t sure how long it took before Chat’s sobs started to turn into crying, and then to just the occasional sniffing as he wiped his sleeve over his mask. Marinette had to fight back her own tears at seeing her partner so shattered.

“Someone I know died,” he eventually whispered, his voice weak. His eyes were closed.

“I’m so sorry.” Marinette gripped him tighter.

“It’s not like we were close,” Chat said, sniffing again. “But this person was the only family I have. And now I’m…alone.”

On the last word, Chat broke again. Marinette couldn’t hold back her own crying this time, and let herself cry with him.

In the back of her head, Marinette thought over what Chat had said earlier. _“Well, it’s not like we met too many times.”_ Chat didn’t know she was Ladybug. They really had only met a few times when Marinette was her civilian self. If Chat came to _her_ , at his lowest moment, it spoke volumes about the lack of other people in his life.

He really was alone.

“I’m so sorry,” Marinette repeated, not sure what else to say.

It took longer for him to catch his breath. Marinette saw a café across the street turn out its lights as the owner put the patio chairs on top of the tables before he swept. It had gotten late without Marinette noticing.

Her questions were still nibbling at her, but she tried in vain to squash them down to some hidden part of herself. Did she know the boy – the man – she was consoling? She remembered having a hunch four years ago that Chat may have known her civilian self.

“I’m the one that’s sorry,” Chat said a few minutes later. Marinette could see him consciously trying to take deep breaths. “I’ve ruined your night.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Marinette said. Normally she would have poked him, but she held back. “Did you want to talk about it? Or about something else?”

Chat looked her in the eyes. Marinette couldn’t help the shiver that started at the top of her spine and crawled down her body. She was talking to Chat Noir. He was real.

“I’m not sure,” he said, grabbing the back of his neck. “A lot happened at once. I panicked and you were the first person I thought of.”

Marinette’s heart leaped at the thought that he trusted her so much. _I’m Ladybug!_ she wanted to scream.

He kept talking. “Feel free to kick me out at any point. I know I’m in the way. Like usual.”

While part of her wanted to wrap him in a hug and never let go, another part of her wanted to punch him. “Don’t you ever, _ever_ say that, you stupid cat,” she said, flicking him lightly on the arm. He gave her a half-smile. Success. “Why would you think you’re in the way?”

His answer wasn’t what she was expecting. “I was always in Ladybug’s way.”

“What?” she shrieked, before cringing and lowering her voice. She was not the most subtle person in the world. “You and Ladybug were partners. You were never in her way.”

“Hardly,” he spat, and Marinette was surprised by the vehemence in his voice. “Do you know how many times I got mind-controlled or taken over? She’d be the one to save me _and_ the rest of the city. Like I said, in the way. And my f-” He abruptly cut himself off.

It didn’t take a genius to guess where he was going. “Your father? In your civilian life?” she nudged.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered. He scuffed his foot against the balcony. “Can’t.”

“That’s okay,” Marinette said, filing that piece of knowledge away. His father was off-topic for the moment.

Chat huffed air out of his nose. “To be honest, I was hoping to run into Ladybug tonight. I wanted to apologize for how bad of a partner I was.”

Marinette fought back the temptation to shove him off the balcony. His low self-esteem was his own worst problem. Instead, she asked, “Why would you have run into Ladybug tonight? It’s not like she’s been around lately.”

That threw him for a loop. He tucked a piece of errant hair behind his ear. “Well, uh, I was thinking that the akuma attack yesterday would have brought her out of retirement. Or even seeing all that hashtag stuff yesterday. If she saw how beloved she was, maybe she'd come back.”

“Maybe she can’t,” she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

“I thought about that too,” he said darkly. Marinette had the uncomfortable feeling that she was missing a piece of the puzzle. Something didn’t fit.

She debated not bringing it up – Chat was already on edge tonight – but she didn’t want to miss what might have been her only chance. Awkwardly clearing her throat, she asked, “What about you? Where have you been for the past few years? We all thought you were gone for good.”

For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her. He just stared through the railings at the church across the river. Finally, he said, “After we defeated the akuma in the Notre Dame, Ladybug decided she was too exhausted to continue. She renounced her Miraculous.”

Marinette felt like she had been slapped across the face.

He was lying.

Chat continued talking, not noticing that Marinette’s world had been tilted off-centre. Her ears were ringing as he added, “She didn’t do it in front of me, so no, I don’t know who she is. As for me, I wanted to take a break. I realized yesterday that my semi-retirement is over.”

“So then why didn’t you go after the akuma?” she asked, concentrating on making each word as normal as possible. Not accusatory or harsh, even if that’s how she felt.

“The police had it under control,” he said with a note of finality. But Marinette knew from her first-hand experience that they _hadn’t_ gotten it under control. The akuma had somehow detransformed on its own.

The silence threatened to eat up the conversation, so Marinette dully said, “Okay.” She winced at how it had come out. “You’ll be back to patrolling the streets now?”

“I guess so. I’m just hoping Ladybug took her Miraculous back. I’m not much use alone.” This time, he only slightly wavered on the word _alone._ Out of the blue, he added, “Your hair is different.” He was staring at Marinette’s high ponytail.

Marinette ran her hand over the ponytail. “I couldn’t find a second elastic this morning.”

“I like it,” he said, winking. The gesture could only be defined as old-school Chat. It warmed Marinette to see some of his old playfulness coming back. Before she could lightly rebuke him, he said, “Thanks for the chat, Marinette. It felt good to just… get it out. But I need to get going.”

She bit back the _Already?_ that she wanted to say. Instead she asked, “Will I see you again?”

It was hard to see in the dull light, but it looked like Chat’s cheeks were turning red. “Would you like me to?”

“I would,” she said with more boldness than she felt.

“Then maybe you’ll get lucky one of these nights,” he said, smirking. “Until then.”

He slipped open his baton, and only a few moments later had catapulted from her balcony onto a nearby roof. She watched him until his dark figure disappeared behind a chimney and into the night.

* * *

 Exhausted, she slipped through the trap door leading to her room and fell into her chaise couch. Now that she was alone, she couldn’t help it as more tears escaped.

_Chat Noir lied to me_ , she thought to herself, stuffing her face into the arm of the couch. _It’s not like I’m his partner any more. But I thought he trusted me enough with the truth.  
_

An idea struck her. _Now that I’m not Ladybug, does it matter if he knows who I used to be? If I revealed myself, he might tell me what actually happened to him._ If she was lucky, it would give her the closure she desperately wanted. _Why does he get to have his Miraculous?_

She had no idea if Chat would actually visit her again. A part of her was half-tempted to put out catnip on her balcony as a joke. Or maybe a plate of cookies? No one in Paris would ever turn down a plateful of cookies from the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

_He’s not Santa Claus,_ she reminded herself.

Deciding that it was too late to think of ways of bribing Chat Noir into coming back, she made quick work of changing into her pyjamas and brushing her teeth.

She went up the stairs to her bed. She noticed a small white box that had been placed near her pillow. _That must be the package Mom told me about,_ she thought.

It wasn’t the normal packaging that her fabric samples came in. There was no return address, but her name and address were neatly spelled in handwriting on the box. The word _Prioritaire_ was stamped near the La Poste logo _._ Someone had wanted to get this to her quickly.

The package was square and fit neatly into the palm of her hand. The edges had been wrapped in clear plastic tape, so she took the box over to her desk, fished out some scissors, and neatly sliced through the tape.

She paused. Wasn’t it considered a bad idea to open a package when you had no idea where it came from? Maybe Chloe had mailed her a tarantula.

“I’m being paranoid,” she said to herself, and pried open the top of the package.

Sitting neatly in a bed of bubble wrap was a small box made from a dark wood. Elaborate red etchings were carved into the top in a pattern that was very, very familiar to Marinette.

Shaking, she reached into package. Her fingers grazed the top of the wooden box and she pulled back as if burned. It was real.

Steeling herself, she reached back in and pulled the wooden box out of the package. An eerie sense of déjà-vu hit her. Running her hand over the etchings, she could feel a friendly and excited humming from underneath.

There was no doubt about it.

She was holding her Miraculous.


End file.
